Rise of the Hawks: Reunion
by RECKLESS SOLDIER-MS
Summary: With Amaranthine behind him but the Blight still fresh on his mind Daylen Amell resumes his journey. He and his new companions come to Kirkwall where Daylen meets his cousins the Hawkes. Deciding to help them with their expedition, the reunited family discovers a conspiracy against the city rulers, will they save them or let the city burn for ruining their family?
1. Prologue: Fall of the Amells

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age

This story could be considered a rewrite of a story I recently took down, Right and Duty. That story, like this was an insert of the character from origins into Kirkwall during the events of Dragon Age 2, but at the same time I'm going to change some things in order to make a more original story.

The Origins character as you can probably see from the character tags is Daylen Amell, the mage origin. The Mage and Dalish Elf origins were my favourite origins, not just because of game play but because of the story setting and how they linked on a more personal level with characters in Dragon Age 2. Whilst there was more detail with Mahariel, Amell is actually related to Hawke.

This story follows the premise of what your character can say at the end of the first game, Daylen has been journeying across Thedas, he has some new/old companions and he's basically a wiser man now. His travels take him to Kirkwall, where the Amells are a shadow of what they were, Hawke is struggling with funding a deep roads expedition and other issues that will be revealed as the story goes on. Daylen meets Hawke and the only remaining family he has left and decides to help them. This covers Hawke's first few years in Thedas and I intend to make sequel stories covering the Qunari occupation and the breakdown of the circle.

What you can expect from this fic is both Bethany and Carver in Kirkwall (how will be explained) and the relationship Daylen forges with them and Hawke who is a female rogue. Other characters from both games will appear including a character we have yet to see, though heavily altered. There will be quests and storylines from the game but some with twists and the endings for some of the acts and Kirkwall's fate will change not just because of Daylen's presence.

I hope you all enjoy the first chapter, which covers Kirkwall and the Amell family.

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Rise of the Hawks: Reunion

Prologue: Fall of the Amells

The miraculous land of Thedas has many great nations and cities and it is the stories of the individuals from these nations that have gone down in history. Ferelden has many heroes, but its greatest came not from there, but across the waking sea in the land of the Free Marches, in the great city of Kirkwall. Formerly called Emerius, the city of chains was once a fief of the Tevinter Imperium, but before the dragon age began the slaves rose up in rebellion and freed themselves of Tevinter rule. Viscount became the ruling title and there were many men and women who performed this duty to various degrees of success. Elected primarily from noble families, Kirkwall never had the risk of running out of leaders. The noble families of Kirkwall produced many leaders, all of whom would have made fine rulers in their own right. The head of the Harimann family was adept at architecture and finance, the DeLancet's produced sensible negotiators and traders. But there was one family in all of Kirkwall that the people were willing to follow, even going so far as to suggest that they were the logical successors of Viscount Perrin Threnhold.

The Amells were the wealthiest and most popular family in all of Kirkwall. They were led by the brothers Aristide and Fausten Amell and the bonds of the family were strong. Aristide was the finest negotiator and financer in all of Kirkwall, whilst Fausten was a skilled warrior and tactician. For years they supported the people of Kirkwall and ensured that the unpopular actions of Perrin Threnhold would never hurt them. Viscount Threnhold, though an admirable man and ruler in his own right was cutting Kirkwall off from the involvement of other nations. That unfortunately included Orlais, the most powerful nation in Thedas having once had a fief in Ferelden and being the capital of the Chant of light. Orlais always commanded the Chantry and Perrin saw that eventually the Chantry would have more power than him. So he cut off trade with Orlais and Antiva, erecting a gigantic net from the twin statues, which also made an Orlesian attack impossible. But ultimately Threnhold's downfall came from within the city of chains. In an attempt to gain control of the city, Threnhold gathered his troops and attacked the Templars, the military arm of the Chantry. His list of allies was short but after a bloody campaign he executed the Knight-Commander and declared the Chantry exiled from Kirkwall.

Around the time the Viscount came into conflict with the Chantry, the Amell family enjoyed the peace of their own reign in Hightown. Aristide had an estate close to the Viscounts keep, whilst Fausten lived in a mansion close to the Chantry. The Amell's were blessed four years before the Viscount's rebellion against the Chantry, when Fausten's daughter Revka gave birth. The boy was named Daylen and raised as a potential heir to Fausten's estate, for the family knew his son Damion's incompetence and gambling habits made him an unworthy successor. Growing up with the hatred of his uncle but the love of his mother and second cousin Leandra, young Daylen made very few friends because of his connection to the Amell family, and his grandfather's outspokenness rubbing off on him. Despite this, or perhaps because of it Fausten valued Daylen more than any of his grandchildren and always kept him close by.

Daylen thought of training as playing, for Fausten wanted to make a warrior out of Daylen. He smiled as the boy slammed his wooden pole against the sticks he wielded. Revka and Leandra sat watching, the boy's mother grimaced every time her father knocked her child to the dirt. But even with his face stained by the mud and a bruise fresh on his arm, the boy smiled and stood back up, laughing the bruise off and continuing to hack at his grandfather. Fausten swung his twin sticks and cheered as the boy finally blocked the strike and counter attacked, striking his leg. Life was good for them and the day was fine, for whatever the future held Fausten was proud to have a grandchild destined for greatness.

"Well done boy, but remember, the true measure of a warrior is not in fighting, but knowing when it is necessary to fight," Fausten patted his grand child's shoulder and pushed him to his mother.

Aristide emerged from the rose bed, clapping his hands in mocking admiration of his brother's wisdom. As Revka fussed over the boy, the two men walked far from their children and spoke of the family and their future.

"An arranged marriage? Brother is that really necessary?" Fausten asked.

"DeLauncet's son is a fine young man and well within Leandra's age, our financial stability is not the best since you bailed Damion out of his debts, of course that wouldn't have happened if you had attained a firmer control of your children," Aristide explained.

"Family is what matters most Aristide, but also free will and the right for every child of the maker to control their own destiny even if it leads them to ruin the fact that it is the path they chose is what is important!"

Aristide shook his head in disapproval of his brother's philosophy. Fausten was a good fighter but he did not live in a rational world, he lived in an idealistic world. But the world was not all ideals, the Chantry had control, the Maker's word was their word and for the sake of survival they had to conform to the laws the Chantry set. Though Aristide maintained a small hope that if he truly did become Viscount he could at least discourage the Chantry from involvement in matters that were best for the people, such as his and Fausten's idea to empower the commoners with a bill of rights and privileges. The Chantry and the Templars would pay no heed to what they did for their people.

"You antagonise too many people brother, especially the clerics, why not commit Daylen to the Chantry?" Aristide asked.

"Leandra was a baby when she was committed, she kicked and screamed bless her, for she did not know the Chantry, I would prefer my children to follow the faith wilfully, knowing its good points and accepting the bad…if Daylen later chooses not to pray then I will be thankful that he becomes a man of action not faith," Fausten explained.

"You give them too much freedom Fausten!"

"And you are perhaps not as firm as you believe, Gamlen and Leandra are their own, their destiny's are theirs to control and though you may demand of them to marry into noble family's, ultimately they will choose their own paths and you as their father have a duty to love them for it either way."

"Do not remind me of my duty as a father, you may have had children earlier than I but still keep in mind that I am the elder here," Aristide laughed.

"By mere minutes brother!"

"Still sore that I won the race?"

The two brothers laughed and their applause of life was only deepened when their bright grand child jumped from the tree, knocking them both to the ground.

"DAYLEN!" Revka yelled, rushing over to the boys. "Don't run out of my sight again, and don't go climbing trees either," she again wiped the fresh dirt from his face.

"Calm yourself daughter, he's just honing his skills isn't he?" Aristide asked, winking at the boy.

Daylen nodded and laughed as Aristide lifted the boy onto his shoulders. Leandra smiled at the display, for though her father was strict she also remembered him being a great source of fun and laughs when she was Daylen's age. Even as Daylen yanked at his hair and kicked the sides of his head Aristide played his part well, running through the garden, ducking under tree branches and jumping over logs. Fausten leant on his sword and smiled as he listened to his grandson laugh, life was indeed good.

Threnhold's campaign to purge the Chantry of Kirkwall did not end with the death of the Knight-Commander. He wanted the complete eradication of the Chantry from his city. Some wondered if he saw the Orlesian influence in the Chantry and simply wanted his city free of foreign rule or if he hated the religion so much that he wanted it wiped from Thedas. Either way people knew what he did next, but very few knew of the specific effects of that night.

_"Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter, blessed are the peacekeepers champions of the just!"_

Grand Cleric Elthina had the respect of many and as she led the evening prayer, her followers bowed their heads and accepted her blessings and prayers. The values of the others in the Chantry were not all aligned however. It was Daylen's first time in the Chantry, but he was not praying. Leandra walked into the study and saw her second cousin sitting on a stool as her uncle read from various history books. She leant against the frame of the door and watched Daylen's curious expression as Fausten moved onto the story of Andraste.

"They say that Andraste's death due to the betrayal of her mortal husband showed the maker that man was not yet ready to be saved…I however believe we are capable of saving ourselves, for that is the true measure of the story, Andraste fought and rallied others, there were no miracles behind her, only the miracles made through human action and will," Fausten explained.

"But grandfather, if Andraste preached of freedom then why are mages locked away, have they done something wrong?" Daylen asked.

"That…is a very difficult subject to explain," Fausten sighed.

"Why? Everyone talks about the evils of slavery, but locking people up when they are young without charge of a crime is wrong isn't it?"

Fausten looked down at the boy, unable to answer his question.

"Would you like to receive Mother Elthina's blessing?" he asked his grandson.

"Only if she can give me a good reason as to why mages are locked up," Daylen stubbornly said.

Fausten laughed before lifting the boy onto his shoulder. He walked out of the library, smiling at Leandra. Lately Leandra had been happy as well, so much more than she had been months ago when Aristide had declared her betrothal to the De Lancet's son. Either she had warmed up to the idea or she had found someone else to turn her affection on, Fausten was not blind and he too had experienced love. Having the freedom to choose whom he loved and married gave him Revka and his son, and later on the bright young boy who rested on his shoulder. Daylen was Fausten's pride and joy, as Leandra was Aristide's.

"Cousin, why are mages locked away?" Daylen asked.

"I guarantee you'll never get a straight or absolutely correct answer from anyone Daylen, alls we have are half truths now," Leandra said.

"My, my Leandra, who have you been dallying with to come out with such wisdom?" Fausten asked.

"No one you should worry father with," Leandra said.

"Ah to be young again!"

The three Amells walked down the stairs to join Elthina's continuing communion. The doors of the Chantry were suddenly swung open and armed men began marching into the grand hall. At the front was a man clad in black armour, carrying a silver helmet between his hand and hip. Fausten recognised the armour itself as that of the legendary fallen knights whom fought against the growing power of Orlais during the exalted age. It was perhaps fitting that it was Perrin Threnhold wearing the armour, although he lacked the crown of the Viscount the dark haired man held clear authority as he led his troops to disrupt Elthina's communion.

"This Chantry is hereby disbanded, you will move this place of worship to somewhere outside of my city," Perrin declared.

"On whose authority?" one of the mothers asked.

Fausten placed Daylen on the ground and pulled his face to his chest. Though Daylen heard the sound of a sword being drawn, he didn't see the Viscount slash the woman's throat. The people gasped as the woman fell, her blood spreading across the floor. Fausten pushed Daylen into Leandra's arms and walked to the communion area, stepping between Perrin and Elthina.

"What is the meaning of this Threnhold?" Fausten demanded.

"The Orlesian influence on the Chantry is too great, as is the Chantry's influence on this city, these holy people and their superstitious and hypocritical ways will lead the rest of Thedas to civil ruin, they will not however push Kirkwall down that path," Perrin explained.

"The nobility will never support this, Orlais will counter attack, the net on the twins will not hold them forever," Fausten stated.

"Then join me Amell," Perrin said softly, placing his hand on Fausten's shoulder. "Help me purge this city of these debaters and worshippers, help me restore order and logic to this city!"

"You speak of logic, but this, killing all those whom disagree with you, executing in cold blood the people whom are exercising their born right to faith…no Perrin, this is not the way to change the world," Fausten sighed.

Threnhold narrowed his eyes, gripping his sword tightly as he stepped away from Fausten.

"Don't do this Amell, I'd rather not be your enemy and keep in mind your bloodline was born from magic…how long will that magic remain dormant, how long until the Templars take your children's children away? Perhaps your faith in the Chantry will change once you see the true evil of the 'champions of the just'," Threnhold explained, looking at each of the noblemen and women within the Chantry.

"I sympathise with the mages, but this is the will of the Chantry and the maker," Elthina said.

Perrin closed his eyes and turned his back to the grand cleric. His anger soured into outright fury, giving shape to a sinister and sadistic smile.

"Very well Elthina, pray…all of you pray," he walked towards the candles, picking them up and throwing them at the tapestries.

He clicked his fingers and his soldiers began pouring oil across the walls. His sword glowed with fire; a dwarven enchantment had gifted the blade with magical powers to further increase Threnhold's might. The worshippers panicked as the soldiers swiped at them with their swords, forming a wall at the entrance of the Chantry with their shields. Revka looked over the shoulders of the worshippers, searching for her child. Leandra kept Daylen close, trying to keep him from witnessing the inevitable murder Perrin would commit.

"Pray as I prayed the day the wasting took my family, pray as I prayed when I witnessed family's torn apart because of the Chantry's hypocritical tyranny, pray Elthina…" he snarled, whipping his head towards the cleric, his eyes overcome by an insane rage. "Pray and be met with mocking silence BEFORE YOU DIE!"

The man yelled as he raised his sword over his head. Fausten leapt in front of Perrin, grabbing his arms and wrestling the sword from his grip. Elthina stood firm as the nobility watched the two men clash anxiously. Though Perrin was younger, Fausten held greater experience in battle as he jabbed at the Viscount's face again and again. Perrin attempted a wild haymaker, but Fausten blocked it and slammed his fist into the man's cheek. Grabbing one another, the two men slammed into the wall. Fausten caught Perrin's arm between his armpits and grabbed the back of his head, slamming him face first into a golden statue of Andraste, heated by the fire Perrin started. His face burned and he yelled in anger before Fausten pushed him to the ground, yanking away the buckles of his armour. The chest plate of the fallen fell to the floor and Perrin went to his knees.

"Your family's death was a tragedy Perrin, do not add all of Kirkwall to it as well, I beg of you," Fausten said.

Suddenly, a blade slid out of Perrin's wrist guard. He stabbed the blade into Fausten's gut, mercilessly twisting it. Fausten looked at the man he once respected and saw a glimmer of regret in the man's eyes.

"FATHER!" Revka screamed, abandoning her search for Daylen to rush through the crowd.

She knelt by her father's side, nestling his head in her lap. Perrin rubbed his eyes before turning to Elthina in fury.

"Many more will die, unless you leave this place and never come back," he snarled.

"The only one who will leave the city is you Threnhold!"

Perrin turned to the entrance of the Chantry. A contingent of templar knights had reformed their ranks and began fighting through Perrin's personal guard. The Knight-Lieutenant Meredith Stannard led them. She cleaved through the soldiers with her great sword; sweat flying off of her golden locks. Perrin narrowed his eyes and gripped his sword with both hands. He ran at the Templars, cutting down two knights on his way to Meredith. She raised her sword, blocking Perrin's strike. The pair slammed their swords together, continuing their duel as Meredith's knights cut down one soldier after another. Daylen struggled under Leandra's grip, looking through the robes and legs of the people in front of him. He gasped in horror, seeing his beloved grandfather bleeding in his mother's arms.

"Your blasphemy has come to an end," Meredith growled as she slashed Perrin's arm.

The Viscount shoved Meredith to the ground and pushed two clerics aside. He let out a yell as he ran towards the grand cleric. An arrow suddenly pierced through Perrin's leg, bringing him to the ground.

"In the name of the maker I execute you for your disloyalty," Meredith raised her sword, ready to behead the man.

"ENOUGH!" the Grand Cleric yelled.

The knights and soldiers stopped, seeing Meredith and Elthina standing over the defeated rebel leader. One by one, the soldiers still alive dropped their weapons. Perrin, seeing utter defeat hung his head low.

"A court will decide his fate, we are not without mercy," Elthina said.

"Damn your mercy Elthina, damn your Chant of light, one day it will burn," the former Viscout snarled before two guards lifted him to his feet.

The guards clamped cuffs of iron around Perrin's hands. Daylen broke free from Leandra's grip and rushed through the crowd.

"DAYLEN NO!" Leandra screamed.

Elthina looked to the child with a sad expression, even Meredith lowered her head in sympathy.

"Daylen stay back please," Revka said.

"No, let him see, he's a fighter," Fausten said.

Daylen knelt beside his grandfather, tears falling from his eyes. He saw his grandfather, a strong man, the person he thought of as the strongest of all men lying on the ground as weak and defenceless as he was. The boy choked and shook his head in denial.

"Daylen Amell," Elthina whispered.

Daylen touched the blood flowing from Fausten's chest and screamed. Aristide rushed into the Chantry and looked at his dying brother in horror. His eyes turned to Perrin and overcome by rage he drew his sword and began walking towards the former Viscount. Meredith nodded to her knights and they immediately restrained the Amell head. Daylen's hands shook and he grit his teeth together, burying his head in his grandfather's robe. He raised his head, revealing the blood that had soaked the fringe of his hair and left cheek.

"I wont…let it end…LIKE THIS!" the child screamed.

Elthina moved to hug the boy, but stopped in horror. The boy's eyes began to shine red and the blood from the dead mother rose from the ground. It swirled in the air and the knights, particularly Meredith looked at the boy defensively.

"I WONT LET HIM DIE!" Daylen yelled.

The blood suddenly flew at Fausten, enveloping his wound. Light began to shine from the stab mark as the blood formed a scab, weaving the broken arteries back together and forming scabbing over the torn flesh. Fausten let out a sharp breath, raising his head from Revka's lap. The light left Daylen's eyes, but his blue eyes, the most common trait of the Amell's had changed, they had instead turned a blood red colour. Fausten touched the healed area in amazement and Daylen looked at the people around him, confused by the horror in their eyes.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"Daylen you're a…" Revka could not bring herself to say the word, she instead stood up and gripped her mouth.

"Why are you crying mother?" Daylen asked. "Grandfather is going to be okay, we're all going to be okay, things can go back to the way they were," he ignorantly stated.

"Blood magic," Meredith snarled.

"But the way he used it, to heal, that's never been done and from a child no less," an older templar, Emeric stated.

"Seize him," Meredith said.

Daylen shook in fear as two templars approached him.

"Have I done something wrong?" he asked.

"Don't…don't fight them boy," Fausten lowered his head.

Leandra looked at her cousin and uncle in horror. She expected them both to lunge at the templars, to protect their beloved son and grandson. Her legs shook as she was too overcome by fear to help. Tears began gushing from Daylen's eyes as the knights yanked him off of the floor.

"Mother, grandfather, what have I done wrong?" he asked.

His voice had become hysterical as he struggled under the grip of the templars.

"Please, PLEASE TELL ME! TELL ME WHAT I DID WRONG!" he screamed and screamed, looking at his idols helplessly.

Meredith put her sword on her back and raised her hand to Daylen's head. Light shined from the woman's gloved hands. The flash caused Daylen to yell and swing his head down, driven unconscious by the power all templars commanded.

"A smite, on a child Meredith?" Emeric looked at Meredith in horror.

"He would have grown angry if left unchecked, he has already resorted to blood magic, possession from a demon is inevitable," Meredith explained.

Perrin looked between Daylen and Fausten. Whilst Fausten was overcome by shock, unmoving and relenting, the boy was barely conscious, showing a strength his idol didn't have. The former Viscount leant forward, glaring at Meredith.

"You were born', that's what you were thinking of saying to him wasn't it? Don't deny it Stannard, I've seen your hatred for mages, and you…" his eyes turned to Elthina, "You claim to be the wise, all caring leader but you know of the abuse your 'champions of the just' commit, you **know** what goes on behind the walls of that tower, YOU ARE A FOOL GRAND CLERIC! ANY OF YOU WHO CONDONE THE CIRCLE ARE FOOLS! SUPERSTITOUS AND COWARDLY FOOLS, EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU!"

Meredith punched Perrin across the head. He spat a blob of blood onto the flaming sword symbol on Meredith's chest plate.

"One day everyone will understand what it is to see their child taken from them, one day they will say enough, the old ways will burn!"

"GET THIS MAN OUT OF MY SIGHT!" Meredith yelled.

Perrin smiled as he was dragged away. He smiled in his cell as the revered mother of Orlais came to Kirkwall with her seeker guard. After the seekers and templars restored order they subjected Perrin to a one sided trial, his fate had been decided since the day he attacked the Chantry but he smiled through the formality. He smiled even when the executioners hung him. Word quickly spread amongst the nobility that the Amell line had been tainted, that Daylen Amell was a mage. The nobility dared not go against the will of the templars and the Chantry. Months after Threnhold's execution Dumar was declared Viscount, what was dismissed as rumour became fact amongst the people that Dumar only achieved power because of Meredith and Elthina and that it was the templars whom held the true authority over Kirkwall. As for Daylen, Meredith wished him to be made tranquil, but Elthina sought a more merciful solution. With the circle tower in need of repair due to Perrin's rebellion, the revered mother declared that all underage mages including apprentices were to be sent to the circle in Ferelden. Aristide chose to visit his grand nephew.

"Grand uncle," Daylen's eyes shined with hope as Aristide entered his cell.

"My boy," Aristide hugged the child, frowning at the chain and iron clamped to his heel.

Outside of the cell, two templars watched the exchange between the Amell head and the child. One of the knights was a young man with red hair, whilst the other was a slightly older man with brown hair.

"Its disgusting how we treat mage children Thrask," the older knight said.

"I agree, but there is not much we can do with the new Knight-Commander," the young knight sighed.

"To make a woman like Meredith Knight-Commander…it is inappropriate, her hatred for mages is clear as is the hatred of all those loyal to her. Fear does more harm than magic truly can, fear turns people into animals, fear has driven us into becoming tyrants over our fellows, I will not tolerate this for much longer Thrask, this isn't the order I joined," the older knight punched the wall in anger before he walked away.

"Maurevar Carver," Thrask called out to the templar, wondering how far Carver's doubt of the order had gone.

"What have I done wrong uncle, why can't I go home?" Daylen asked.

"Don't ever think that you have done something wrong boy, I know it isn't fair but this is simply the way the world is right now, I'm sorry but you cant ever go home child," Aristide explained.

"But, but I haven't done anything wrong!" Daylen cried.

"Listen to me child, magic has been in our family since its formation, but it is only now that it has awakened, there has to be a reason for it, I believe that there is a reason why you have been born a mage…it is up to you to find that reason, to prove to everyone whom calls you a danger, who calls your magic a curse wrong, to turn that curse into a gift for all your fellow men of Thedas. You'll be alone for a while, but if you try hard enough you'll make some friends that are really worth having, friends who will support you no matter what and friends who you will feel compelled to support no matter what they ask, people worth dying for, rely on yourself Daylen but don't squander or ignore what you can learn at the tower!"

Aristide pulled the boy into a hug, having told him what he knew his brother would say. Daylen hugged the only relative who visited him harder than he had ever hugged anyone before. Fausten grew depressed over the loss of his most cherished grandson and didn't visit the docks to watch the Chantry boat depart. Leandra, Aristide and his son, Leandra's younger brother Gamlen watched however. Meredith permitted them to only wave at the boy as Templars took him to the hold like a prisoner. In the years that followed, the Amell family's reputation began to fall apart, both personally and financially. Fausten fell deeper into his depression and his son fell deeper into debt. At the same time Aristide's household faced greater struggles. Leandra had fallen in love with a mage, so deeply in love that when Aristide made her choose between him and the family, she chose her lover Malcom Hawke. After gaining funds through an unknown means and with the aid of a kind Templar, Malcolm and Leandra left the Free Marches for a new life. Aristide and Fausten shared the same grief, having lost the family members that they cherished the most. Fausten lost his estate paying for the debts his son had incurred. In time Aristide and Fausten lost touch with one another and Fausten eventually moved away from Kirkwall. Aristide and his wife eventually fell to a wasting sickness, the heir of the Amells continually called out for his daughter. The Amell estate passed to Gamlen, whom after years of pursuing treasure and incurring debt had to sell the estate to slavers. It was thus that the Amells had fallen, Fausten's children passed and Gamlen's wife left him. People said that magic had tainted the Amell line and destroyed it. In the years that followed Viscount Dumar ruled under the eye of the Templars, maintaining positive diplomatic relations with other nations, some said at the cost of more power to the Chantry. Internally however crime, corruption even slavery markets flourished under Dumar's ignorant rule.

Daylen Amell however lived on. Through the crippling and cold silence of his Templar guards, the sickness induced by the journey and his own grief, Daylen survived and reached what would be his new home in the coming years. His walk through the fields of Fereldan would be his last moment of true freedom. People stayed away from the templars, watching as they led young mages and apprentices on the road to Lake Calenhad.

The journey continued for Daylen as he headed towards his new home. He kept his eyes to the ground, ever since they left Gwaren and passed through Amaranthine he had been counting the steps it took to reach the tower. They apparently weren't even half way, the Templars were polite when they spoke to him, but most avoided it. Occasionally Daylen would hear whispers of what he had done to save his grandfather and it was then that he began to understand, they feared him. More and more Daylen began to feel that it was with good reason. The dangers of his powers became apparent from the moment he stepped into the circle tower. His arrival came when a demon rampaged through the tower, towards the entrance. He watched as Knight-Commander Greigor drew his sword and struck the creature of rage down. The Knight-Commander then turned to Daylen, recognising the fear and confusion in his eyes and said:

"That's why you're here, so you learn how not to turn into that."

Thus it was over a period of eighteen years that Daylen lived in the tower. He never used blood magic again, but he was never able to shape the mana necessary to perform curative spells. Under First Enchanter Irving's guidance, Daylen learnt how to control his abilities and of the dangers of the Fade. He established bonds, gaining friends and rivals, yet he felt alone as his uncle said he would be, he took his lessons to heart but he never shook away the feeling that he didn't belong at the tower. Even so he continued to improve in his discipline and knowledge, eventually completing his Harrowing in the thirtieth year of the dragon age. During that time, darkspawn movement began to increase in Ferelden, so much so that the grey wardens, fearing another blight launched extensive recruitment campaigns as King Cailan assembled his army. They recruited warriors, hunters, thieves, anyone with talent and even criminals, invoking the right of conscription to recruit people of all races. Daylen's life changed when Ferelden grey warden commander Duncan went to the circle tower at the same time as Daylen sought to help his friend Jowan escape.

Bound by the will of the right of conscription and guided by his grandfather's memory and the teachings of his seniors, Daylen moved towards a destiny at Ostagar that would bind his life to that of many others, and would trigger the winds of change throughout Thedas. For an even greater story was waiting beyond the blight, beyond Ferelden, a story that began with the cries of a child and a promise. A promise made by a man just before he was hung. To say the people rejoiced when Viscount Threnhold was hung would be chantry propaganda. The truth was that the city was silent, Threnhold was thought of not as a criminal but an example, an example of what happens when the templars are defied. After the formalities of the trial and the spectacle of marching him towards the hang man a moment passed between the former Viscount and Meredith passed.

"You smile even before death Threnhold, is this madness that grips you?" she asked, tying the rope around his neck.

"No," the man smiled, tilting his head back and looking the Knight-Commander in the eye. "I had a vision of the future, or rather a hope, an expectation, I finally have faith now, belief in something that might not necessarily happen," Perrin laughed as two knights gripped his shoulders.

"I do not deal in maybes," Meredith said.

"Then deal in this Meredith, consider it, I loved a woman outside of marriage...I have a son, and like me there will come a day he will despise your order and the chantry and as I promised everything you hold sacred will burn."

Meredith seemingly ignored the Viscount's last words. But the seed of paranoia was set within her. The very thought of it drove her, the promise that Threnhold made of the old world burning. That paranoia would drive her in her duties and pave the way for further tragedy.

Next Chapter 1: Journey

* * *

Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter.

Next time we skip to Daylen as an adult as he remembers the fifth blight and his actions during that period, we are also introduced to some of his new companions whom are all familiar faces.

Please review and tell me what you thought of the chapter, I wanted to capture the innocence of a child and how they would react to suddenly being dragged away from their home (cause they would wonder what they've done wrong) and at the same time establish the bond the Amell family had before it all fell apart.

Also I intend to make this a Fenris/Hawke romance in the future and I've fallen for the Carver/Merrill idea. What do you guys think?


	2. Chapter 1: Journey

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age

This chapter is mostly a recounting of Daylen's adventures during the Blight, with focus on some moments that defined Daylen, resulting in the character you will see throughout this fic.

Hope everyone enjoys it

* * *

Rise of the Hawks: Reunion

Chapter 1: Journey

A year and six months had passed since he left the tower, since he stopped considering it home. The only person he truly valued there was gone and he was still trying to find him. Daylen's life had changed, he was truly free but it didn't feel as fulfilling as he would have liked it to be. Watching the waves crash around the wooden boat was about the only serene and tranquil thing Daylen enjoyed. Any place else and he would have thought about battle, about the things he had lost and the things he had taken. Never once in his time at the circle did he believe he was capable of taking so many lives. When he left the circle he believed the only thing he would have to kill was Darkspawn. But Lothering opened his eyes to that fact. Not only had he killed bandits but men under the command of a man who should have been his enemy.

* * *

"Give Loghain a message when you see him," Daylen said.

"What?" the man at his mercy asked.

"Tell him, the Wardens survived Ostagar, tell him they know what he did," Daylen snarled.

As soon as the man had limped away, Daylen rubbed his forehead. He didn't believe he was capable of such violence. The bruise on his right eye still stung, but it had at least proven that he could take a punch despite his thin size.

"Great, Loghain's become the regent, I cant believe he'd have us hunted down like this," Alistair said.

It had been weeks since Daylen had left his prison the circle tower of lake calenhad. Duncan of the grey wardens had taken him to become part of the prestigious organisation. At one time grey wardens had been the stuff of legends, the heroes Daylen's grandfather often used to inspire him when training. Duncan had seemed like a good man when he first met him, when he walked him to his room at the tower. He seemed even more finer a man when he had seen the good in Daylen's decision to help Jowan escape. But ultimately his expectations of Duncan were too high. He stopped seeing Duncan as a good man when he went through the joining.

Grey Wardens gained their powers, immunity to the effects of the taint and an ability to sense darkspawn, by drinking darkspawn blood infused with lyrium altered by magic. It had a low survival rate, as proven when Daylen's fellow recruit Daveth drank from the cup. That sight of Daveth choking, poisoned by the blood and the lyrium terrified Daylen then. But even more so, the moment that defined Duncan in Daylen's eyes haunted him. Another recruit, a knight called Jory, an expectant father, a man scared of dying and leaving his family alone refused to drink the blood. Duncan drew his blade and killed him.

"Maybe we deserve it," Daylen whispered.

"What did you say Daylen?" Alistair asked.

"Distraction will get you killed," Morrigan said.

Duncan died at Ostagar, along with the king of Ferelden and his army. Every other senior grey warden died also, all because of the betrayal of Loghain Mac Tir. His was a name known even in the tower. He was respected as a hero amongst the people; his daughter was even the Queen. Alistair and Daylen only got away because of the intervention of Morrigan's mother, the witch of the wilds Flemeth. She had protected treaties the grey wardens could use to summon allies, had healed Alistair and Daylen's wounds and left them with the cryptic message that there was more to the blight than they believed. She also forced Morrigan to go with them, in a way like Daylen she had to leave the only home she knew. Morrigan was a beautiful woman, but not very pleasant.

"Gagh!" Daylen grunted as a weight forced him to the floor.

He was broken out of his distracted state by the brown furred Mabari hound. As big as bears, the intelligent dogs imprinted on owners. Alpha had imprinted on Daylen when he treated his blight-induced sickness. The hound swept his tongue over Daylen's pale face, causing Alistair to laugh.

"You handled yourself pretty well, and it was good that you spared them," the chantry sister said.

Whilst the rest of the people in Lothering stood by and watched as they were confronted by Loghain's enforcers, a sister from the chantry helped them. She had been diplomatic at first, but when the men drew their blades she dispatched some with a dagger concealed in her robes. Daylen looked up at the red haired sister, awestruck by her beauty. She smiled at his affection and offered him his hand.

"I am Leliana!"

It was like the many fantasies his grandfather had told him, except the experience was anything but. After the massacre of the Ferelden army at Ostagar, and their interlude at Lothering where they discovered just how terrible the state of the kingdom was, Daylen and his company of four and a dog set out. Their allies grew in number, first with Sten of the Barrassad, vanguard of the Qunari people, then with the Antivan assassin Zevran. At Orzammar they gained the loyalty of Oghren, a disgraced member of the dwarven warrior caste. Then when Daylen returned to the circle tower, senior enchanter and healer Wynn joined him. The party travelled across Ferelden, righting wrongs as the heroes of the fantasies did. But it was no fantasy, there was not always a happy ending waiting at the end of the path.

* * *

"You have deceived me!" the demon standing before him screeched.

"Of course, do you really think I'd let you walk out of here?" Daylen asked.

"You will not keep me from what I seek," the cat snarled.

"Kitty, what's wrong?" the innocent girl next to the demon asked.

The cat suddenly turned into light and a bright flash knocked Daylen and his companions back. He rose from the floor and widened his eyes. There was no sign of the girl and her cat. Hovering above where the girl once stood was the very thing Daylen had been taught at the tower to resist. But the girl, young and naïve, unaware of the danger of trust was a ripe target for the demon imprisoned in the basement. The desire demon stood as tempting as Leliana and Morrigan, horns and black flames accounted for its hair.

"No," Alistair spoke Daylen's words perfectly.

"NOOO!" the volume of the statement was louder from Daylen's mouth.

Flames covered his hands and enveloped the desire demon. Zevran threw a dagger into the woman's head and Alistair ran her through with his sword. The flames began to consume the demon and Daylen walked towards it. A corpse fell to the floor, but it was not the body of a fully-grown, voluptuous desire demon. It was the corpse of a five-year-old girl. Daylen gasped, his mouth and eyes wide in absolute horror. His companions, even Zevran was overcome by shock.

"There was no other way," Sten said.

"Indeed, though perhaps it was better if we did not keep the demon from its prey at all," Morrigan said.

Daylen fell to his knees and touched the burning corpse.

"No, why, why did it happen…why couldn't I save her…he trusted me to save his daughter," he whispered.

"Daylen, there was nothing you could've done," Alistair said.

"Should've done better, at the tower, at Ostagar," with each location, Daylen banged his fist into the ground, mana surged through him as his anger flourished.

"Leave the past where it lays Kadan," Sten said in an almost soothing manner.

Daylen couldn't bring himself to recall that dreading sorrow the girl's father tried to hide. A part of him probably knew that it was hopeless, that his daughter couldn't be saved. The group gained a new addition in the sentient golem Shale and resumed their guest, to recruit certain groups within Thedas to aid against the blight. The treaties they carried obligated the groups involved to dedicate forces to the grey wardens. But every location came with a problem, that they had to solve. At Orzammar they had to appoint a new king, leading to a confrontation with Oghren's wife, the discovery of Shale's past, the destruction of the anvil of the void and the deaths of the last two paragons and ending with the crowning of Bhelen Aeducan, a man who would change Orzammar for the better but at the expense of the death of a whole family. In between the circle tower and the Brecilian forest, Daylen followed the advice of Alistair and sought allies at Redcliffe. But upon reaching the village, they found that the castle had been locked up and the villagers were under siege. Resolving to save lives instead of take them, Daylen rallied the people to defend their homes, pointing out tactics and flaws in the environment they could use against the Undead forces and even cajoling passers by to fight. It was only a preview of the leadership skills Daylen would come to rely on. They saved the village with minimum casualties, but Daylen's sense of accomplishment was shattered when he infiltrated the palace dungeons.

"Hello, is someone there?" a voice asked from one of the only occupied cells.

Daylen and his group curiously looked into the cell. Both the occupant and Daylen himself widened their eyes. Standing in the cell, his robes ripped and splotches of blood across his face was Jowan, Daylen's best friend at the tower and one of the only ones whom made it seem like a home. The man was shaking in fear and it seemed like a struggle for him just to stand. It became clear to Daylen that Jowan had been tortured.

"You, I never thought I'd see you again, especially in a place like this," Jowan said.

"Jowan what are you doing here? No, you were the mage Lady Isolde spoke of?" Daylen asked.

"Yes, I know what it looks like, but I swear I had nothing to do with what happened here. After I escaped from the circle I was approached by Teryn Loghain, in exchange for settling matters with the circle I agreed…to poison Arl Eamon," Jowan explained.

Alistair's expression changed from one of contempt and suspicion to the mage. Daylen however began to get a greater understanding of the situation in Redcliffe. Eamon poisoned and dying, a boy desperate to save his idol and a mother protective of her son, but vengeful and willing to blame anyone. Despite the fears of his teachers and the templars, Daylen knew that Jowan was no true pawn of a demon just someone whom had turned to blood magic out of stupidity.

"Its not that simple is it, there had to be a reason why you could get close to Eamon in the first place, Conner, Isolde's son is a mage!"

"What makes you say that Daylen?" Alistair asked.

"Daylen's right, Conner started showing signs of being a mage, Lady Isolde grew afraid because she knew that no matter how much Arl Eamon loved their son he would commit to the law and send him to the circle, I came to her promising to teach her son how to hide his abilities, I used that to gain entry to the Arl and poison him," Jowan explained. "I thought I was doing a service to my country, that Loghain would free me, but its all fallen apart hasn't it?" the young man's voice grew hysterical with regret. "When everything started happening the Arlessa had her guards torture me, nothing I said could appease her, she just wanted to punish me, she said I was to blame for all of this," he explained, leaning against the bars.

"Our actions have consequences Jowan," Daylen said.

"I've failed again, please you have to let me put everything right!"

"Everything you did here, or at the tower?" Daylen asked, frowning at his old friend.

"You have every right to hate me, to not trust me, do what you wish but please…tell me what happened to Lily," the mage begged.

"Lily was taken to the mage prison, she hates you Jowan for what you did."

Jowan stepped away from the bars, the regret and sadness had finally overcome him. During their circle days Daylen occasionally saw his fellow mages cry over their predicaments. But it was nothing in comparison to the times people were robbed of the people they loved. Men and women whom lost lovers to the harrowing, whenever there were 'accidental births' the children were taken before the mothers could even see them. Daylen could recall a time when Anders, a usually witty and joyful young man was driven to tears when the man he was rumoured to be in a relationship with, Karl, had been transferred to the Kirkwall tower. Jowan was an emotional person by his very nature, but Daylen knew that his friend was truly broken to resort to such tears. He leaned against the wall, burying his face in his hands, his breathing was strained as if he was choking

"Oh maker, Lily, I loved her Daylen, you must believe that if nothing else."

"I do Jowan, but I want to…no, there's nothing capable of saving me if I put my trust in you again. But I am going to trust you, I don't think you were responsible for this Jowan, but I can hardly believe Conner alone was responsible for this either," Daylen explained.

"How could you entertain the thought?" Alistair asked.

"An unshackled mage is dangerous," Sten said.

"A child taught nothing of how to control and use their power properly is dangerous," Morrigan corrected.

"Conner does have potential, but nowhere near the kind of power necessary to cause all of this," Jowan said, he had recovered just enough to stop his tears.

"He must have been approached in the fade by a demon, and the demon is using his body to reap havoc over Redcliffe," Daylen sighed.

Daylen took his staff and banged it against the lock. It shattered and Jowan widened his eyes as Daylen opened the door.

"Just go," Daylen shook his head, "Just leave and don't look back!"

"I swear, I will put this right!" Jowan said.

Jowan returned and suggested a method of saving Conner from the demon. Conner had not yet completely slipped under the desire demon's control. Eamon was being kept alive through both Conner's desires and the demon's power. To free Conner, Jowan suggested a ritual to send a mage into the fade to fight the demon. But rather than use blood magic, Daylen trusted Jowan, Isolde and Eamon's brother Teagun to buy time whilst the group got help from the circle tower. But upon returning to his childhood prison, Daylen found that the ambitions of the libertarian Uldred had grown beyond simple ranting. Believing that mages deserved not just freedom from the chantry, but dominion over all, Uldred instigated a rebellion with followers also tired of the tower. Knight Commander Greigor had called for the right of annulment from Denerim, which would have given him the authority to slaughter every mage in the tower. Again rather than give into the easier option of murder, Daylen chose to save the circle.

* * *

Daylen awoke from his dazed state. Uldred, reduced to the form of a Pride demon towered over his companions. He threw Sten against the wall and slammed his fist into Alistair's shield. Rage demons swiped at Leliana and Zevran, whom stood back to back parrying against the blows. Shale marched towards Uldred, locking hands with the taller giant. Daylen's eye then darted to the figures trapped in the barriers. They had been set out like sacrifices at a ritual, but the allusion wasn't untrue. Irving and the other senior enchanters would die if he didn't take action. He reached into his poach, the Litany that Nial had given his life to protect, the key to halting the control blood magic gave. Daylen threw the book across the room, at the feet of Wynn. He then squeezed his hand into a fist, gathering mana before unleashing a fire spell on the Pride demon's back.

"ULDRED!" he yelled.

The Pride demon turned and growled at Daylen.

"This is power you could have had boy, but instead you squander our gifts and waste your talents," the demon, or perhaps Uldred growled at the young mage.

Daylen took a staff from the ground and twirled it around. He slapped the tip against the ground and waited as his allies steeled themselves for an attack.

"You are right, I did have the opportunity to have power like yours, but I made the right choice, to reject the demon's offer unlike you. You are also wrong in saying I waste my talents, I simply choose to take a different path to power, to wisdom and I'm happy for it, because I have something you will never have with all your powers Uldred," Daylen explained.

"And what could you possibly have that I simply can't take?" Uldred asked.

"Friends," Daylen smiled before clicking his fingers.

He triggered a vibration in the floor, causing the ground beneath Uldred to crack. Leliana threw a flash bomb directly into Uldred's face, shattering his perceptions. He yelled in agony as Zevran stabbed daggers empowered with ice magic into his back.

"Thank you my dear," Zevran winked at Morrigan.

Sten and Alistair ran at Uldred, slashing his sides. Leliana fired an arrow into his neck and Morrigan threw a stone fist into his back. He regained his bearings and looked towards Wynne. His fellow senior enchanter read from the litany, destroying the seals binding the other senior mages.

"People only followed you because you offered them something no one else did," Daylen said, ducking underneath Uldred's claws. "You isolated yourself from others, always claiming you had all the answers, when the truth is you never did. Worst of all, you used the suffering others had endured to further your own selfish goal, you know nothing of doing something for others, and you live only for yourself. You were prideful long before the demon made an offer Uldred!"

Uldred lunged at Daylen, only for Sten to stop his claw with his great sword. He stabbed the blade into Uldred's arm, pinning it to the ground. Alistair then hacked at Uldred's wrist as Leliana fired an arrow with a line attached to it. The line latched onto Uldred's back and Leliana threw the line to Shale. As Alistair continued slashing at Uldred's arm, Shale pulled on the wire. Alistair's sword ripped away at the pride demon's flesh, severing arteries and cracking bone. Shale pulled at the wire, intending to rip Uldred away from his arm. But his back gave in first; the golem pulled and ripped a chunk of flesh off of Uldred's back. Alistair then delivered a final swing, cutting off Uldred's limb.

"CURSE YOU! I WILL NOT BE DENIED!" the mage yelled.

"You already have," Daylen began covering the staff he held in ice.

"Irving," Wynne sighed in relief as the seals around Irving broke.

Daylen finished covering the staff with ice, turning it into a hammer. Sten and Alistair grabbed the hammer as Zevran hit Uldred's face with a bomb. The two warriors yelled as they swung the hammer down on Uldred, imbedding it in his chest. He fell to the floor, which finally collapsed down into the library. Daylen looked through the hole Uldred had made and watched as the buried demon shrunk, to the point where his human form could no longer be seen under the rubble. He turned to the other mages and ran to aid his teacher.

"Daylen, you came back," Irving whispered.

"It's a long story, but for now we need to get you to Greigor, he said he wouldn't stop the right of annulment unless he saw you," Daylen said.

"The right of annulment? Then thank the maker you came child, come help me to the templars, ah, curse whoever had the idea of making the circle in a tower!"

Daylen laughed with his old mentor as they and the people whom followed him began walking down the tower.

He had saved the tower that day and set the bar for the mages. They had gained determination from Daylen's success to match that success against the darkspawn. Quickly returning to Redcliffe, Irving and the other mages used lyrium and seals to prepare a spell that would save Conner. The spell involved sending another mage into the fade to directly confront the demon that had tempted Conner. It was a demon of desire, and having constantly thought of what happened the day he met Shale and at the circle tower, Daylen was determined to save at least one life from the clutches of desire. But he wanted to prove that Jowan could be redeemed, so he selected the blood mage to enter the fade. Jowan returned from the fade and the magic controlling Conner faded. The Arl was still sick however and his only hope rested in the hands of blind faith. For that was what Daylen had considered at the time the power of the urn of sacred ashes to be. Tracking the exploits of brother Genetivi and the trail of blood left by a dragon cult, Daylen and his friends went to a remote village in the mountains. There they discovered the dragon cult that had imprisoned Genetivi and killed anyone who sought the ashes.

They cut their way through the village of heretics and rampaged through the caves they made their homes in. After killing their leader, the group discovered that the cult worshipped what they thought was Andraste incarnate, a high dragon that flew around the mountains. Killing the beast, Daylen and his allies resumed their march through the mountains and came upon a mysterious man. A guardian whom seemed to have otherworldly powers protected a place of mysterious magic and power, the gauntlet. Daylen's faith wasn't strong, and the guardian sensed that as well as all of his doubts and his deep regret over not being able to help Jowan. After answering the guardians questions Daylen proceeded into the gauntlet and realised that the tests were not about faith at all. He kept the thought to himself though, answering each riddle, solving each puzzle and walking towards his goal. But it was at the midway point of the gauntlet that Daylen met someone he didn't expect to meet.

"Had fun with the riddle game?"

Daylen looked upon the figure in front of him. He may as well have been a ghost. Jowan stood before him, yet Jowan was also at Redcliffe. Jowan was a broken man, his confidence shaken by his repeated failures. But somewhere in the eyes of the doppelganger Daylen saw what his old friend once was. He saw the happiness before the unfair policies of the circle took over.

"I didn't think I'd fool you, but am I really a spirit? Or is this all in your mind? Are you in the fade perhaps?" the shadow asked Daylen all the questions he asked himself and the mage begun to wonder if it was his own inner doubts. "Honestly I don't know, I am part of the gauntlet. I am Jowan I am you. All of these statements are true!"

"Why are you here?" Daylen asked.

"To speak to you and to offer advice. You have wondered many times if what happened to me was your doing. Perhaps if we had taken another route or had been more prepared things would be different. But it is too easy to obsess over 'what if' and 'what could have been.' These thoughts will eat away at you if you let them. Forgive yourself just as I have forgiven you."

The illusion had smiled, giving Daylen an amulet and words that were supposed to push him forward. But Daylen was still haunted; the illusion crafted by the gauntlet had only strengthened his doubts. He never doubted the Darkspawn needed to be stopped; he only doubted the cost that had to be paid. The lines he had to cross and the right he had to cross those lines were what always haunted him. Even as he stood on the deck of a ship, making his way to a place that wasn't Ferelden. For Ferelden had nothing but expectations there, expectations and memories. Freedom had changed him, for in his path to gather allies Daylen had pushed himself to stay a good man. It was in the Brecillian forest that Daylen discovered knowledge that belonged to the Dalish. He kept the power and teachings of the arcane warriors and set free the spirit that could have taught them to the elves. A part of him felt they didn't deserve recovering that piece of their past. For it was Zathrian, the keeper of the dalish tribe charged with aiding the wardens, whom forged with his hatred and his magic a curse that destroyed families. The werewolves had existed because of him and in the end, rather than kill either side Daylen pushed Zathrian into letting go of his hatred and his life.

* * *

What should have been an example of the tragedy anger could bring did not wipe aside what was in Daylen's heart. The ashes of Andraste saved Eamon, whom in turn laid out sentence on Jowan. As Daylen dreaded his friend was returned to the unforgiving hands of the chantry. For all their talk of forgiveness and freedom the church never truly valued it. There were only aspects of the light that appealed to Daylen. As his faith in himself began to wane, he turned more and more to Morrigan. Her ways never had a great appeal to him in the beginning, but as Daylen became more and more aware of the harsh cruelty of the world he began to lean towards Morrigan's line of ruthless thinking. So much so that when Morrigan requested his help in killing her mother, Daylen didn't bat an eyelid. The battle against the witch of the wilds was long and harsh and Daylen claimed a vicious burn on his back. Frustrated with his continuous battles and the lectures of his friends, Daylen ignored Wynn's guidance and offers of care and pushed Leliana's affections aside.

"They will never completely heal," Morrigan told him.

He sat in her tent, shirtless with the witch tracing her hands across his back. She flipped through the pages of her mother's grimoire and smiled. Morrigan bit her thumb, drawing blood from the wound. Then she traced her blood across the burn on Daylen's back. He grit his teeth together, bashing his fists against the ground. The healing magic was more painful than anything Daylen had felt before. Morrigan placed her hands over the mark that had been left from the healing.

"These are ancient ways, lost ways, my mother had a means to use blood to heal even the worst of wounds. It is no longer infected and in theory you will not suffer from pain later in life, or as long a life as you can have…still your chances are much better now," Morrigan smirked slightly.

"Why are my chances better?" Daylen asked.

"Because you no longer have that naiveté in your eyes," she said.

"I have only darkness in my eyes, this anger, it'll eat away at me, I know it," he lowered his head and sighed.

"You are wrong," Morrigan said.

She gripped his chin and pulled his face around.

"You have surpassed that circle slave I met in the wilds, you have become a true survivor, the only one whom can defeat the Archdemon. Tomorrow we go to Denerim, where they will accept your command or else they will all die!"

Bound in steel and powered by the lost magic he had absorbed, the arcane warrior walked with his companions and the Arl into Denerim itself. It was in Ferelden's capital that the bond Daylen had forged with Alistair fell apart. Gradually Daylen took drastic steps to assure the cooperation of Ferelden's nobles. He unleashed his wrath on Arl Howe, Loghain's ally responsible for the massacre of the Cousland clan. He unleashed his wrath on Ser Cathrien, Loghain's fanatically loyal lieutenant. He unleashed his wrath and the power of blood on the slavers that had infested the Denerim alienage.

Drenched in the blood of those whom had crossed him, Daylen had an epiphany. He realised that for all his cursing of Duncan, Loghain and the templars he had become just like them. His thoughts had drifted to that memory, that final memory he had of Kirkwall. Meredith's hatred, his mother's fear, the righteous fury of the Viscount all became reflections of those closest to Daylen. In Morrigan he saw the demons that had spurred him on, hiding evil deeds with words like 'survival' and 'necessity'. It was in Alistair that he saw anger over his ruthlessness and his disregard for the sacrifices of their brethren. Leliana looked at him with the same fear Daylen saw in the eyes of his mother and the grip of the chantry. As one noble after another spoke of their support of the wardens, as Loghain challenged him and fell at his feet, Daylen came to his ultimate conclusion. The senior warden Riordan suggested that Loghain become a grey warden and Daylen agreed.

"No, you can't be serious," Alistair snarled.

He stood between his closest friend and his greatest enemy. But Daylen's decision was clear, as was the effect it had on him.

"Loghain was a hero once before Alistair, don't let selfishness lead you astray," Daylen said.

"Selfishness? Are you not selfish Daylen? Has your actions up until now not been guided by your desire to see Loghain fall? Have you forgotten how many people died at Ostagar, the king, Duncan and our brothers? I will not fight alongside that man, nor will I fight alongside those whom choose to let him live," Alistair explained.

The anger was as clear on Alistair's face as the guilt was on Daylen's. But the young man raised his head and narrowed his eyes.

"I have been selfish, consumed by my own anger and my own will and I can not arrogantly say that my will is any more important than another's. I can not say that I am bound by honour, by a code, by duty or the gods, alls I can say is that I am bound by my own will as all creatures are in the end," Daylen shook his head and squeezed his hand into a fist, "I'm sick of it Alistair, we've left so many dead behind us, made too many compromises, as many as Loghain has. If I carry on like this, killing because it seems more convenient then how long before I start stabbing men whom only wished to go back to their pregnant wife?" Daylen's guilt became a glare and it struck at Alistair.

Daylen wasn't just defending Loghain he was cursing Duncan as well.

"How dare you compare Duncan to Loghain," Alistair snarled.

"The only difference between them is that Duncan closed his eyes when he betrayed those whom trusted him," Daylen said.

To Daylen's credit he took Alistair's punch well. The other companions looked at the two wardens in shock. Daylen stood with a disappointed expression on his face.

"Forget it then, I wont follow men whom betray their allies," Alistair said.

Daylen narrowed his eyes at Anora as Alistair walked past him. Though his friend was abandoning him, Daylen's desire to protect him was still there. The look was one of warning that if Anora obscured Alistair's path she would pay.

* * *

Thus Loghain joined the group. With Loghain's aid they recovered the old keep of the Wardens and cleared Denerim of its political strife and criminal presence. Anora had quickly established herself as a firm and fair ruler. The people loved her and even the Alienage recovered due mostly to the efforts of an enthusiastic and outspoken young woman Shianni. Slowly but surely each force that Daylen had united began to pull its army together. Dwarven warriors and metal came in from Orzammar, with Bhelen negotiating a trade agreement with Anora. The legion of the dead, led by a young Dwarven woman whom introduced herself as simply Sereda promised to cut off the Darkspawn as they retreated. Dalish clans already in Ferelden gathered to join Zathrien's successor Lanaya in raiding bodies of the horde. Guards and volunteers in Denerim began forming defences and blacksmiths produced armour and weapons. Those whom had survived at the tower enchanted weapons for the army to use.

In the end the circle mages, dwarven warriors and Dalish archers marched towards the capital, once word had hit that the horde was attacking. Daylen and his companions joined with Eamon's forces at Redcliffe. There Daylen and Loghain learnt of the true power behind the wardens and why they were necessary to defeat the Darkspawn and stop the blights. Riordan explained that the darkspawn were soulless husks and that the corrupt spirit of the old god within the Archdemon would seek out a creature bearing the taint upon its death. In essence the Archdemon was immortal and that if anyone besides a warden killed the dragon then the blight would not be stopped. Grey Wardens carried the taint and if they killed the Archdemon, then the spirit of the creature would be drawn to them. But two souls cannot exist in one body, thus both the spirit of the old god and the warden whom delivered the final blow would fade. In order to end the Blight a warden had to sacrifice himself.

'All that talk of duty and sacrifice and you people only ever wanted men to throw at the demon,' Daylen huffed as he looked at the blood amulet, the evidence that he had been a warden.

Riordan and Loghain offered themselves, the former due to the taint not sparing him for much longer and the latter for his past misdeeds. Daylen however was willing to make that sacrifice himself. Morrigan probably saw that too. She proposed to Daylen, in the dimly lit bedroom a way out for him. It was a ritual; one suggested by Flemeth herself, it had been the very reason Morrigan had joined the group. But Daylen refused, despite Morrigan's pleas he refused. Morrigan left and after a night spent contemplating the life he had lived, the mistakes he had made and the events that led him to that night, Daylen made another choice.

But it was a futile choice, Loghain beat him to it. The hero of river Dane took up the sword Daylen had failed to wield and drove it into the head of the Archdemon. Loghain made the sacrifice, yet Daylen was honoured as the hero. He received the titles, the stories and the admiration of the realm. Not many accepted Loghain as the hero he was or at least the hero he chose to be in his final moment.

'Do you either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain?' Daylen wondered.

He looked at the blood amulet and sighed. Being a grey warden was something he once wanted to be. A hero whom people looked to when all hope was lost. The reality was different from the fantasy. It was filled with compromise, that was the truth about life really. The day he first used magic in the chantry had robbed him of his innocence but it wasn't until after his journey was over that he truly discovered what it meant to be a man. It meant taking responsibility for your actions, forging your own way and living by a code. But who said that code had to be one given to you? Faith was powerful, but who said you had to kill for it? The Qun had wisdom but who said he had to worship the maker, who said he had to follow the Qun to the letter? Sten once told him that seeking wisdom was the basis of the Qun and what Coslun had done to form it. So Daylen would seek wisdom wherever he could find it, he would face the bad, the storms, the murderers and those whom abused their power and take on the good lessons as his own. Every mistake and every triumph served to make him stronger and wiser, that was what growing up and changing for the better was all about.

"That's the wisdom I choose," Daylen said.

Then he let go of the amulet and let the blood red stone drop into the sea. He would go to Kirkwall and find out what had happened to his family, learn from it and if the city of chains offered nothing to fight for then he would continue his journey.

"MAKER DAYLEN!"

He cautiously placed his hand to the lance on his back as he turned to where the scream had come from. Daylen sighed; Herren had a furious look across his face. The blonde haired man had run a smithy in Denerim with his eccentric partner Wade. Herren was a good businessman but not very likable.

'I suppose he has his fine points,' Daylen chuckled.

"You've been gone for hours and your mutt will not stop whimpering," Herren said.

"He doesn't like enclosed spaces, it reminds him too much of the kennels at Ostagar," Daylen sighed.

"Well hurry up and put a muzzle on him before he mauls Bevin," one of Herren's fine points was his sensible nature, both in business and life.

Daylen put on a confident smile. Though Alpha was a war hound he was gentle at heart. The brown furred Mabari had also taking a liking to Daylen's ward. As soon as Daylen opened the door, the massive Mabari tackled his master. The Mabari dragged his tongue across Daylen's face, trying to get through the visor of his helmet.

"Eyuck, thank goodness you left my creations at the keep," Wade quivered.

Daylen laughed as he patted Alpha's head. Wade was a very eccentric man, more so than most Orlesian's Daylen had met. But his skill as a blacksmith was undeniable despite his perfectionism. Daylen got off the floor and removed his helmet, running his gloved hands through his face. It was a far cry from the way he used to look, scars had become decorations, Wynn even said once that if she hadn't met Daylen before he got his scars she would have thought he was a different man.

"I'm sorry Lord Amell I tried to keep an eye on him," Bevin said.

"It is all right Bevin, and don't call me Lord," Daylen smiled.

After six months of touring and five months of service as Arl of Amaranthine, Daylen chose to continue his tour. But he didn't go alone, Wade and Herren came to establish themselves in Kirkwall as there had been rumours of drakes being found in the bone bit. Bevin wanted to learn from Daylen, ever since the warden used his grandfather's green blade he had developed a dream to become just as famous and skilled a hero. Daylen accepted Bevin as an apprentice because he admired the boy's newfound courage. The last person to offer to accompany him was former Tavern waitress Bella.

"I overheard one of the sailors say that we'll be in Kirkwall within another day," the red haired woman said.

"That's good, in the mean time take stock of your belongings," Daylen said.

"What are you carrying besides blades?" Herren asked.

"And that god awful armour you had me make?" Wade inquired.

Daylen looked over his clothes, Wade was only angry with the result because it wasn't Orlesian standard fashion. It was practical as opposed to style based, something most Ferelden clothes were. If one was to consider it stylish then they had odd tastes, most found the armour intimidating. It consisted of black fabric and mail worn across most of his body, small pads of armour had been put on his joints, his knees and elbows and shoulders. They had markings one would typically associate with a dark warrior, the small plate that hugged Daylen's chest and back had the faint outline of muscle carved across it and the shoulder pads had spikes on them. His boots had light armoured plates on them, allowing him free movement. He also wore a pair of gauntlets that began from his elbows and to the knuckles of his black gloves. A double sided lance had been strapped to his back, functioning as his primary melee weapon, the lyium imbedded within the weapon also allowed him to channel his magic.

"Is that really necessary?" Herren asked, gesturing to the second 'insult to fashion' that made Wade cried.

The mage held a helmet in his hands, it had horn/ear like appendages on the back and a visor designed to conceal his face. If he was going to go back to his home he would need to keep his identity secret, at least until he was sure of the state of the circle in Kirkwall, and his family's influence. He only ever heard unsavory rumors in regards to both.

"SHIPS AHEAD! HARD TO PORT!" the group heard the sailors yelling outside.

"What's going on?" Bella asked, stumbling as the ship pulled off a sharp turn.

Daylen kept himself supported on the wall and looked at Alpha. The Mabari covered his nose with his paws and whined. He knelt by Alpha's side and patted his chest.

"Stay strong boy, you four stay together, I'm going to see what's going on, and perhaps find Adaar too," the mage said before he stood up and walked to the door.

"What about the person who followed us on board, the one who has been watching us all this time?" Bevin asked.

Daylen stopped and smiled, Bevin was developing an awareness of his surroundings as all fighters had to. There was indeed a sixth companion, though unlike Daylen's fifth they didn't remain hidden out of a desire for solitude. She had been following him since he had visited Sten in Par Vollen a month ago. He put on his helmet and looked towards his companions.

"I'll take care of her," he said.

Upon exiting the cabin Daylen began to get a good idea of why the journey had become rougher.

Next Chapter 2: Debt

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Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter. The choice of companions may seem a little strange but I was going for something different, plus you'll see why the four NPC's follow Daylen in a few chapters. Daylen also has one other ally who will be revealed in chapter 4. I based Daylen's armour on the one on the front cover, it was the dark knight armour of Cecil Harvey from Final Fantasy.

Next time though we switch to the Hawke family and recount their childhoods, their initial unknowing encounters with their cousin and their escape to Kirkwall.


	3. Chapter 2: Debt

Disclaimer: I don't own dragon age

Hey everyone, back with another update, a somewhat in depth look into Marian Hawke's earlier life. I originally intended the chapter to be longer but I'm hoping I finished it at a good point, anyway enjoy.

* * *

Rise of the Hawke's: Reunion

Chapter 2: Debt

Marian's life had been consumed by one single goal, protect the family. When she was little her father always told her to look after mother whenever he was working. He also taught her about the importance of family, as an only child Malcolm Hawke never had a sibling to fight for, even his parents had turned him over to the Chantry.

"Magic is part of our family, not just from my side but your mothers side as well, it will always be a part of us," he explained to his child.

She was sitting on his lap that day, looking up at the stars that seemed as magical to her young mind as the light in her father's eyes. He manipulated his own mana, creating a glitter like fireflies. Marian reached out to the lights and though they shocked her, they did not harm her. She was not afraid of her father or his magic, to her it was a wonder that never ceased to amaze her.

"Why did grandfather and grandmother send you away, had you done something wrong?" she asked.

Malcolm paused at the question. Inside their house, Leandra stopped cutting the vegetables for the stew. The question bought back a memory for her. As Malcolm looked at his wife she began to experience a flashback of that day in the chantry. The day she discovered she was with his child, the day the Viscount was arrested, the day her cousin's son was dragged away asking what he had done wrong. Malcolm bounced the girl, causing her to laugh.

"I had done nothing wrong, having magic is not wrong but there are those in power whom fear magic and they spread that fear, perhaps because they believe it is necessary to fear or because it is the only way to keep that power. We learn to control our magic child, to harness it and use it for good but there are those there who watch us, some so afraid of the danger that they no longer see us as human, others so cruel that they pray for the day we lose our strength and fall to demons. But demons do not just exist within the fade, they exist within our very hearts, not just within mages but others too, it's a responsibility of all to control their own demons and to use what power they have wisely," Malcolm explained.

"Magic exists to serve the Chantry," Marian said.

"Who told you that? The correct term is that magic exists to serve man and not rule him," Malcolm said.

"But really they mean serve the Chantry right, they're the ones who came up with it!"

Malcolm laughed and picked his girl up, swinging her around.

"My little chick, already smarter than a lay sister, you're right and they're wrong Marian, our magic must serve that which is best in us, not that which is most base," he explained.

"What does that mean?" Marian asked.

"Right now it means go to bed so that you can help your mother tomorrow," Malcolm grinned.

Marian frowned as her father ruffled her hair. Sometimes he could be kind and strict without shouting, other times you'd never get a straight answer from him. But as Marian grew older and she walked with her siblings, Bethany and Carver their mother and others in the villages they grew up in told her that out of all his children, she was the one whom took after him the most. She didn't mind it though, her father was her hero after all. Most grew up on tales of the wardens, or of dragon slayers or princes whom rescued damsels from witches. But for Marian Hawke there was only one hero, the real life hero that was her father. He worked hard to build them a life in Denerim, he worked hard to teach Bethany how to use her magic and spend time with his other two children and he worked hard to be a good husband and an active member of the village community. They had built a home in Lothering and a peaceful life.

As the three siblings grew up they began to form reputations within the village. Bethany grew more beautiful with each day and by the time she was fifteen she was the desire of most of the boys in Lothering. Marian was another story, she inherited her mothers beauty but she was different from Leandra and much more different from Bethany. Men were attracted to her, but she sometimes shot them down the hard way. There came a time when Carver was bullied by the bigger children, his reprieve from the bullying came from an unexpected source.

"Beat up my brother will you, well lets see how you like it," Marian snarled as she slammed her fists into a bigger boy's jaw.

The other boys looked at the older Hawke in fear as she continued to dirty her fists with bruises and blood.

"You there stop," a Chantry priest said, yanking Marian away from the other child.

Marian grinned slightly as she kicked the boy in the groin. She got a fierce lecture from her father, Carver however spent most of that day sulking in his room.

"Okay, what's wrong boy?" Malcolm asked his son.

"Marian fought for me today, now everyone is going to talk about how she beat up a boy twice her size," Carver set his hands on his knees, trying to hide his sulking.

"Actually he was three times her size, which kind of worked to her advantage I suppose," Malcolm grinned, puffing his cheeks to emphasize the boy's weight.

It made Carver chuckle only lightly, the boy had a lot of weight, his gut was proof of that and Marian was nimble. She was already making a name for herself by climbing onto people's roofs and watching the stars.

"But she was only trying to protect you," Malcolm said.

"I know that, but that isn't how it should be, I'm the boy I should be protecting her," Carver said.

"HA! I pity the man who believes he can be Marian's hero, one day you'll be strong, whether that's strong in body or spirit doesn't matter because there are many types of strength, as there are many types of glory, being your sister's brother isn't all bad," the older man explained.

"Really, I don't see it that way," the boy huffed.

"Well let me put it this way, she'll get in so much trouble that when you and Bethany actually cause trouble your mother and I will be too tired to yell at you," Malcolm grinned.

Carver slowly raised his head, revealing his smile. The boy's smile made his father smile too and he lifted him onto his shoulders.

"One day you'll be as strong as your sister, between you and me boy, I agree you'll be stronger, it's the duty of men to save women after all," Malcolm Hawke laughed.

So Carver grew and grew seeking to stay out if his sister's shadow. He trained and learnt from the Ferelden soldiers whom often passed through the village. His dream was to gain glory, to have his name recognised for something besides being his sisters brother. In time Carver grew into a strong young man with great talent in swordsmanship, especially with a great sword. He was a contrast to Bethany, whom never had any interest in adventuring or battle, even though Malcolm taught her to defend herself. Marian wanted to protect the family, Carver wanted to live in glory and Bethany wanted to live a good life, if not a normal one. Thus the Hawke sibling's grew, but because of the injustice of the circle, only Carver and Marian could seek their own paths away from Lothering.

"If you want peace, prepare for war, those are the words of the hero of river Dane, the one whom won our freedom from the Orlesian occupants and turned Fereldan into its own nation again. The Orlesian threat, any threat to our nation must be combated but for that we need men and women as courageous as the people whom followed the hero and our rebel king," the soldiers that passed through Lothering eventually started recruiting.

Carver was intrigued by the idea of joining the army and becoming a hero. But he wasn't going alone.

"You can't both go," Leandra told her two children.

"Don't worry mother I'll look after Carver," Marian grinned.

"To the void with your protection, I'm going for myself Marian," Carver said.

"Believe it or not Carver I'm going for me too," Marian said, but her little brother was already out of earshot.

"Is that true Marian, is this your decision for you?" Malcolm asked.

"Yes father, I want to do something for me," she said.

Malcolm nodded his head in understanding. He didn't expect his children to follow his orders forever. They were each capable of great things. Even Bethany could be great, perhaps especially Bethany, a girl with so much hope in her eyes. Bethany had hope, Carver enthusiasm and Marian had ambition, which though could lead to pride was in itself a quality. Leandra was of course against Marian and Carver joining the military, she never wanted any of her children to face danger. They still went though and joined an infantry regiment under King Cailan. Though Carver had skill with the blade it was Marian whom outshone him in the ranks. She proved to be one of the best archers in the army and had a bit more discipline than her brother.

"You archers wear so little armour, though in your case it might be an advantage," Marian promptly smacked the first grey warden recruit to perve at her.

She had a **tiny** bit more discipline than her brother.

"My apologies my lady, Daveth try not to cause too much trouble!"

The highlight of the Hawke sibling's career was Ostagar. Darkspawn began to march through the Kocari wilds, in numbers so large that the grey wardens had reason to believe that a blight had begun. King Cailan was eager to face battle and gathered armies from across the areas surrounding Ostagar, joining with the Orlesian grey wardens. Marian could see the animosity Loghain had for the foreigners, he had slightly less of a problem with the recruits though. Whilst Carver hung out with the other men in their regiment, Marian watched the recruits. Part of her was looking for a reason for Loghain's distrust, perhaps an opportunity to see if the Orlesians were really acting through the wardens. Another part of her wanted to watch the heroes of legend. Alistair was as quick with his mouth as Marian, he was a genuinely polite and well mannered man too. Daveth on the other hand was a thief and a flirt, Ser Jory was a coward, or he was at least too focused on his family. In battle Marian let all concerns slip aside, she had to in order to survive.

For a moment Marian thought 'is that it?' in regards to the grey warden recruits. But then the grey warden commander Duncan returned. Behind the tall Rivaini was a pale skinned man just a few years older than Marian. He had unkempt dark hair and wore a short sleeved black robe, styled like a coat. Duncan had obviously given him some light armour for his boots and belt and the young man had a pair of black gloves on. He seemed to enjoy his surroundings, yet at the same time he looked uncomfortable. Curiously he carried no sword or weapon. But there was something in the young man's red eyes that stabbed at Marian's curiosity. In between her duties she watched the grey warden recruit. After coming back from the wilds he cared for a wounded Mabari, spoke with Loghain and even fed a prisoner. He was kind and gentle yet when Marian heard next from Jory and Daveth they spoke of how frightening his magic was. The young man was a mage of the circle, the very place her parents were doing everything they could to keep Bethany from.

When night passed and the rain fell on Ostagar, Marian got her first taste of a real war, something she hoped she would never see again. She joined the ranks of archers, whilst Carver joined the main line of infantry. Then they saw them, the darkspawn emerging from the wilds. There was no waves of enemies, just a huge mass of creatures walking out of the forest. Then they ran as if some order had been given, ran straight towards the army. The king gave the order for the archers to let loose a volley and after a single volley the battle fell apart, at least in Marian's opinion. Cailan ordered the hounds and infantry to meet the Darkspawn charge head on. It was foolishness from an archer's perspective. They could have led the Darkspawn into the narrow valley and hit them with continuous volleys of arrows but Cailan wanted battle alongside the wardens. Marian joined the fray, cutting the throats of the monsters with her daggers. She caught a glimpse of Carver swinging his blade through Darkspawn three at a time. He had even greater skill than Cailan. The battle got bloodier and bloodier and Marian watched one soldier fall after another. For every one Darkspawn she killed ten more of her allies seemed to die.

Everything was supposed to be all right when the fire at Ishal began to glow. The army waited in anticipation for Loghain's reinforcements. But nothing came, Loghain had abandoned them. Carver still fought on, but the darkspawn horde was relentless. Cailan and Duncan fought back to back, cleaving through waves of the spawn. But not even the king nor the warden commander were a match for the ogre the darkspawn bought with them. Marian heard that the ogres were born from Kossith, Qunari brood mothers. They were pure terror, mowing through soldiers like they were nothing. Marian watched as the ogre picked Cailan up and crushed him with a simple squeeze. With their leader dead and all hope lost, Marian grabbed Carver and ran into the wilds. The horde began working its way through the encampment, killing anyone who didn't run.

They spent the next few days in the wilds, trying to make it back to Lothering with a dwindling group of survivors. At Lothering however the grey warden survivors arrived just as tribes of wild folk passed through the village, speaking of the terror of the horde. Malcolm moved through the markets, discreetly helping refugees. None reported him to the templars, some were grateful and others had more pressing concerns. The Hawke patriarch watched the new arrivals with a curious expression. There was something dark about the woman, her clothes were a sign of her coming from the wilds but she had an 'aura' that made Malcolm feel uneasy. He focused instead on the apparent leader of the group, the very same man Marian had been watching at Ostagar.

Malcolm didn't know why he felt like he knew that man, but as he watched him he saw a different kind of man than the kind he was used to seeing. The man convinced a merchant to give items to the refugees at a reduced price. When a Chasind man began chanting of how the end of the village was near, the young man stepped in. Bethany too watched with great interest as the man told the people to leave, to flee to Denerim or Redcliffe, to not give up hope. The men and women agreed to it, but Bethany still wanted to watch the young man and his companions. She watched as he helped people load their possessions onto carriages. He continued helping people outside of the Chantry, giving coin to elves, informing the guards of the elimination of the bandits. As Bethany watched the man she saw many of the qualities her father had, yet with less caution. He just wanted to help as many people as possible, something that was ended when his blonde haired ally grabbed his shoulder.

"Daylen, we need to leave as soon as we can," the man said.

"What about the people here?" the black haired youth asked.

'Daylen,' Bethany thought, deciding to remember the name.

"We have to prioritise reaching the areas the parties in the treaties are," the slightly older knight said.

"Alistair, we can't just leave these people to fend for themselves," Daylen said.

"It seems to me that these people would die just as quickly on their own," the woman commented.

"I don't know if you're being your usual unpleasant self or if you're siding with Daylen Morrigan," Alistair muttered.

"No, its foolish to waste time here, every second that is wasted is another step the horde takes to reaching this village and wiping it from the face of the Earth. The lords made the right choice, the only choice really, survive and leave the weak to die to cover your escape," Morrigan explained.

"So we just leave them to die, another necessary sacrifice for the grey wardens?" Daylen asked.

"You wanted to lead, start taking responsibility," Morrigan said.

Daylen lowered his head as he leant against nearby carriage. He ran his wrist across his eyes and sighed.

"We'll go to Orzammar first, the dwarves have been the first line of defence against the darkspawn for ages. If we gain their armies first we'll have raiding parties capable of raiding arms of the horde, capable of slowing their advance. Lothering may fall, but I'm going to do everything that I can to make sure it's the last place hit by the horde…do you both understand?" Daylen asked, turning to his companions. "These people, they are not the ones we sacrifice, they are the ones we protect, they're the ones we kill for, that we die for!"

"To move as fast as possible, to cut through bandits and Darkspawn we will need more allies," Morrigan said.

"The Qunari, if we take him into our charge then he'll be a valuable fighter," Daylen nodded his head.

"That lay sister offered to help us," Alistair pointed out.

"Alistair…she's an archdemon short of a blight," Daylen said with a deadpan expression.

"I admit she's a little strange, but she's more 'oooh pretty colours', not 'mwahahaha, I'm princess stabity, stab, stab kill, kill,'" the young knight chuckled.

"We do what we can at every turn to delay the scouting parties of the hordes, keep their eyes focused on us and away from the villages," Daylen closed his hand into a fist, as if making some silent vow.

For a moment Bethany thought of offering to help. She felt her cheeks flush as she considered getting closer to the interesting man. A man not crippled by sacrifice, a man who didn't easily turn his back to Lothering as others did. Then she thought of her family, her mother still praying for Marian and Carver to come back to them, her father trying desperately to help the people of the place they called home. Daylen left soon after and Bethany returned to her mother.

"Survivors from Ostagar passed through here mother," she told the worried woman.

"Were Marian and Carver with them?" Leandra immediately asked.

"No, they were grey wardens mother, they helped some of the villagers before moving on. There is still hope mother, they grey wardens can save us," Bethany said.

"I don't care about the grey wardens, I just want all of my children here with me," the woman bought her hands to her eyes but stopped as Malcolm walked into the house.

"Bethany is right Leandra, we can not give up hope, the sight of the grey wardens is but a small symbol that not all is lost. Marian is a survivor and though Carver can be headstrong at times he and Marian will look after one another, our children are stronger than we believe my love," the Hawke patriarch explained, taking his wife's hand.

"I'll gather some herbs and see what I can do for the villagers," Bethany left, wanting to leave her parents alone.

"She seems to want to help more than ever, you'd better make sure she keeps herself safe," Leandra said to her husband.

"I think this is a situation that requires throwing caution to the wind, the templars have better things to do than hunt Apostates. She is strong my love, our little girl is growing up, I think her faith is well placed," Malcolm smiled as he took a seat, leaning his staff against the table.

"What do you mean?" Leandra asked.

"Today I saw a boy who was condemned as a criminal, yet there was no evil in his eyes, I saw hope within him…the boy Leandra, he survived the circle, he has survived the wardens and I believe just as Bethany believes he will continue to survive," Malcolm explained.

Leandra widened her eyes, clutching her mouth as tears of joy threatened to gush from her eyes. After many years of hearing of the passing of her uncle's children, of silence from her brother and dreading an answer her heart wanted she had found it. The boy that was the joy of their family was alive and he still had it in him to do something great, to restore some semblance of glory and honour to the Amell name.

"Revka," she whispered her cousin's name and hugged her husband.

Days passed and the village gradually began to empty. Finally the day Leandra hoped for and dreaded came. Marian and Carver returned home, both near exhausted from a trek through the wilds, bearing a warning of an arm of the horde coming towards Lothering.

"We need to leave immediately," Malcolm said as he grabbed his staff.

"We've been running since Ostagar," Carver said.

"Is that going to be your excuse when the Darkspawn come?" the Hawke patriarch asked.

"We should have left with the grey wardens," Bethany muttered.

"The grey wardens survived? We thought they all perished at Ostagar," Marian said.

Malcolm told his eldest daughter about how some of Loghain's men came in from the capital. They had been speaking of how the wardens had betrayed the king and left him to die on the battlefield. Without even hearing of the incident in the tavern Marian immediately went to the wardens defence. She told her family what really happened at Ostagar, that Loghain was the one who had betrayed the army by refusing to provide reinforcements.

"If the wardens are as capable as you hope Marian then Loghain's betrayal will come to light, our priority must be getting as far away from the Blight as possible," Malcolm explained.

"But there's still a fight here," Carver said.

"A fight we have no certainty of winning, Loghain has the respect of all of Denerim, the wardens are but two and one of them is a mage. The people of the world are not so educated that they forget their fear of magic, it pains me to say it but unless that man does something to earn their love then he will be doomed to fail," Malcolm looked at Bethany with an apologetic gaze, knowing that part of her wanted to join the warden.

That interest seemed to pass to Marian and Carver as well.

"There's no guarantee that we'll be able to catch up with them, but what we can do is go to Denerim, hide out for a while and once a lands meet is called we turn ourselves over to the custody of Eamon," Marian explained.

Carver nodded his head in agreement. Seeing all of his friends die at Ostagar and on the road to Lothering helped him to forge an understanding with his sister.

"But then you would have to fight the Blight again," Leandra said.

"The Blight has to be fought, the wardens cant do it alone," Carver said.

"No, I forbid you to go, you're in over your heads and I don't want you to throw your lives away fighting a hopeless cause," Malcolm said.

"Aren't you the one who told me that there is always hope if you fight hard enough for it? We cannot outrun the Blight for long, this is our choice, we're not children anymore," Marian explained.

"YOU ARE MY CHILDREN!" Malcolm yelled.

Never before had the Hawke siblings heard their father speak with such ferocity in his voice. He had always been calm, making clear when he was angry or disappointed with them without raising his voice. But it was clear to the three of them that their father was speaking out of desperation. Their father had the faintest hint of a tear in his eyes, but he didn't get a chance to speak. The Hawke family felt something land on their roof, and a disturbing clicking sound. Malcolm gripped his staff, freedom's promise tightly. He raised his staff and fired a force blast that ripped through the roof, throwing one of the intruders up into the air.

"SHRIEKS!" Marian yelled.

The rat like Darkspawn poked its head through the hole Malcolm had made and screamed at the mage. Malcolm pulled the creature into the house and slammed his staff into its face so hard that the blow shattered its skull.

"No more debate, we have to go now," the Hawke siblings saw a fire in their father's eyes they hadn't seen before.

Malcolm led his family out of the hut and looked upon Lothering. Darkspawn Hurlocks were setting the houses ablaze, dragging people out of their homes. Bethany and Leandra bought their hands to their mouth in horror as the Darkspawn savagely bit the necks of the men and began to drag the women.

"We have to help them," Carver put his hand to his sword.

"No," Malcolm grabbed his son's hand, "We have to go now, use this chance to escape," he widened his eyes as Marian fired two arrows.

But it wasn't the Darkspawn she was firing at. Her arrows hit the two women the Darkspawn were dragging.

"We could have used them to cover our escape," Malcolm said.

"Why did you do that?" Carver asked.

"Unlike you Carver I listened to the warden's lectures at Ostagar, if the Darkspawn taint or capture me, kill me brother," it was Malcolm's turn to be shocked at the severity of his daughter's voice. "Now lets go," she knocked back and released one arrow after another, bringing down the Darkspawn pursuing them.

Once her family had a good head start Marian began running after them. They fled into the hill areas surrounding Lothering, the rocky plains gave the Hawke's an advantage, they carried no possessions, just enough gold for a boat. Marian stayed close to her mother as the woman began to lose her breath. Malcolm led the family as always, perhaps he was overcome by the shock of everything that was happening. He turned to check his family and widened his eyes. Leandra had stopped from exhaustion and Marian was right beside her, trying to encourage her to keep on going. One Genlock flew through the air, swing his axe towards the woman Malcolm loved and his daughter. Carver however reached his sister and mother first and impaled the little monster with his sword. He then threw the creature into its friends, bringing them to the floor. Bethany threw a fireball onto the pile of Darkspawn, forming a wall between them and the monsters pursuing them.

"We cant stop my love, we need to keep going," Malcolm said.

"Where? We can't just wander aimlessly," Bethany said.

"So long as we wander away from the Darkspawn," Marian muttered.

Leandra raised her head and looked between her children and husband.

"We can go to Kirkwall," she said.

"Kirkwall wouldn't be my first choice, it wouldn't even be my last," Marian said.

"There are a lot of templars in Kirkwall mother," Bethany said.

"Our family has always had influence in Kirkwall, we have an estate there, it's the best place to avoid the Darkspawn," Leandra explained.

"So we're going to run away?" Carver asked.

"Yes, we run and never look back and hope that the wardens are enough, believe me boy nothing but death and sorrow comes from the wardens," Malcolm explained. "Now we are going to Kirkwall and I don't want to hear another complaint about it, we stay safe and alive no matter what," he slammed his staff into the ground, creating a wall of ice spikes that impaled the Darkspawn that broke through the fire.

"Who are you?" Marian suddenly asked.

"I'm your father, I'm the one who has your best interests at heart," Malcolm said.

"Really, because the man who raised me would never have turned his back on those in need, even during a blight, no especially during a blight, this is the different between them and us, our desire to help others over ourselves," Marian explained.

"I know its cruel, but sometimes the greater good is simple survival," the man lowered his head in shame.

"Fine, I'll make sure you and mother get to Gwaren, but then I'm going back to the capital, I'm going to finish this fight," Marian frowned at her father and then walked past him.

She drew her daggers as she heard Darkspawn further ahead on the road. They were attacking a templar and a soldier Marian barely recognised from Ostagar. The soldier was built strongly for a woman. She broke through a Hurlock's guard and slashed it with her sword, a unique weapon made of silverite, beautiful but obviously deadly in the warrior woman's hands. The templar however fought the Darkspawn one at a time, killing one before a Genlock's knife shredded his sword arm. He let out a pained gasp before falling to the floor, with the Genlock ready to finish him off.

"NO!" the woman yelled, tackling the little beast to the floor. "You, will not, have him!" each word she spoke was followed by a brutal punch to the monster's face.

She grabbed her sword and beheaded the creature and then picked the man up, bringing him to his feet. Marian saw the love in the woman's eyes as she picked up the man's shield.

"They will not have you," she said, "not while I breath."

Whether the woman was ready to die with her lover was something Marian did not want to find out. Ignoring the warnings of her father behind her, Marian ran towards the Darkspawn. She jumped and stabbed two Genlocks in their heads. Then she leapt off of their shoulders and slashed a Hurlock across the throat. Marian ducked as another Hurlock swung his sword at her. She kicked a Hurlock behind her and stabbed her blades into the other Hurlock's throat. Yanking the blades back she blocked the final Hurlock's sword, then slashed it once across the face before stabbing both her daggers into its chest.

"Are you both okay?" she asked.

"WATCH OUT!" the woman yelled.

Marian turned around, raising her daggers to block a Hurlock's great axe. Suddenly, a bolt flew into the Hurlock's back, electrocuting it enough to kill the monster. Bethany's hand shook a she lowered her staff. The templar narrowed his eyes at Bethany, even as Carver and Malcolm stepped to her defence.

"Apostate," he said.

"The maker has a sense of humour after all it seems," Bethany said.

"Stop squirming Wesley, you're only going to make it worse," the ginger haired woman supported the templar enough for him to stand on his own.

"That woman is a mage," the knight said.

"She helped us Wesley, and the maker understands," she turned to the Hawke's and sheathed her sword. "I am Aveline Vallen, this is my husband Wesley, we can hate each other after we're away from the Blight," she explained.

"He's a little far to be hunting apostates," Malcolm said.

"I was on business in Denerim for the order, when I heard about what happened at Ostagar," Wesley said, he cringed as his arm twitched.

"Bad luck and a few stupid decisions bought us together," Aveline said.

"My duty is clear but so long as there is a greater need you and I have a common cause," Wesley explained.

"The wrath of the templars is terrible indeed," Marian said, smirking at her father.

He had raised them to be afraid of templars. But looking upon Wesley, who was small and gentle in comparison to the Lothering templars elated Marian and even Bethany's fears. The young man seemed to take to the joke better than other templars too.

"More so their wives," he said, looking at Aveline.

"We need to get going now," Malcolm said.

"Our escape is cut off, the only other road we have available to us is the south," Aveline said.

"The wilds are south and that's no escape," Carver said.

"If its either the Darkspawn or the creatures in the wilds we all know which one would be a better option, especially for us ladies," Marian grinned slightly.

"Lets go then," Malcolm sighed.

Wesley walked with Leandra, though it was a very short walk. With every step they took across the landscape Wesley's condition began to worsen. It started small at first, his skin turned pale and he coughed. It occurred to Marian that the templar had been infected by the taint, the wardens warned them of tainted blades. Aveline however supported her husband, either she had no idea just how sick Wesley was or she was in denial. As they got closer and closer to the wilds, Marian began to hope that they had escaped the horde. Her hopes however were dashed when they came to a hilltop. The ground shook as the group heard what seemed to be footsteps. Marian instinctively bought her hands to her daggers, and then she saw the horns on the horizon. An ogre ran through the group, forcing them to dive to avoid being crushed. The ogre roared, slamming its fists against its chest. It turned to Leandra and Carver, blood dripping from its mouth.

"You soulless bastards," Carver snarled.

He raised his sword, slamming it against the guard on the ogre's hand. The ogre suddenly grabbed Carver and lifted him off of the ground. Marian began to flashback to Cailan's death; to Carver's credit he was much braver than the king. Suddenly, a fireball slammed into the ogre's face. Malcolm raised his staff, firing another fire spell into the ogre's head. The ogre stepped back, dropping Carver as Malcolm hit him with a spirit bolt. Carver picked up his sword and returned to his mother's side, keeping him safe.

"Don't just sit on your arses," Malcolm snarled at his children and Aveline. "Fight, fight for to survive, FIGHT!" he yelled, slamming his staff into the ground.

The darkspawn around him were thrown off of their feet. Marian stood and drew her daggers. She slashed two Hurlocks and then stabbed another in the eye. Aveline deflected a sword and stabbed her opponent in the face. She swung around, slashing two Hurlocks in one fluid swing of her sword. Carver hacked aside any darkspawn that approached him or his mother. He pulled on her arm and thrust his sword into the Genlock that snuck behind her. Bethany froze a Hurlock on the spot and shattered it with her staff. She looked to her father and watched in amazement as he drove the ogre back with fire. He moved the fire in his hand and threw it towards the giant, burning its face. Malcolm Hawke gathered light into his hands and began chanting the spell that would summon a firestorm.

"LOOK OUT FATHER!" Marian yelled.

Malcolm stopped his chanting, only for a bolt from a crossbow to pierce through his neck. He gripped the bolt and looked towards the Hurlocks rushing towards him. The mage raised his staff, only for two spears to slam into his back. A second Hurlock then rammed his sword through Malcolm's gut. Leandra screamed as Carver held her firmly. Malcolm's eyes let out a red glow as he dropped his staff. A force of magic blew the Darkspawn back, including their weapons. He then formed with his own blood a spear that he launched into the leg of a ogre. Marian didn't need an order to know what she needed to do. She ran forward, slashing two hurlocks in her way. The ogre swung its fist at the rogue, only for Marian to jump onto its arm. She then jumped onto the spear and used it to launch herself at the ogre's head.

"By the maker," Wesley gasped.

The eldest of the Hawke siblings stabbed her daggers into the ogre's neck and face again and again. She then stabbed her right dagger into the monster's bell before slicing open his chest. Marian let out a yell as she stabbed her blade through the ogre's twisted heart. She jumped, flipping away from the ogre as it fell.

"Malcolm," Leandra gasped, running to her husband's side.

"Leandra, my love I'm sorry, is Carver all right?" he asked.

"I'm here father," Carver said.

"Maker no," Bethany dropped her staff and went to Malcolm's side.

"No please, not you please," Marian let some of her tears fall as she walked towards her father.

Malcolm gripped the back of Leandra's head and pulled her into a kiss.

"Meeting you was the single greatest moment of my life," Malcolm said.

"Malcolm no," Leandra hugged her husband tightly.

"Don't tell them who the warden is my love," he whispered into her ear.

Both he and Leandra knew that if the siblings found out that it was their cousin leading the charge against the darkspawn then them following him would be a certainty. She nodded her head and dried her eyes.

"I dragged you away from a life of wealth, at least today I actually got to be your hero," he muttered weakly.

"I never wanted a hero, or wealth, I just wanted you," Leandra said.

"My children, you must get to Kirkwall, no matter what you have to do you must get to Kirkwall. Please, this is my last request, survive and pray that the warden will be enough. Marian come closer please, there's something you have to know," Malcolm let out short and weak breaths as Marian came to his side. "You were right, I'm not really the man you thought I was, please get to the free marches Marian…make a new home for our family, and put right a mistake I made long ago," Malcolm reached into his coat and pulled out a small golden statuette of a griffin.

Marian had never seen it before and looked at the statuette curiously. Malcolm raised his hand and traced his thumb across the bridge of Marian's nose, leaving a mark of blood.

"I believe you will all make me proud," his hand fell to the ground.

Carver fell to his knees, slamming his fists against the dirt. Marian fought off the urge to cry as Leandra touched her dead husband's cheeks. Bethany was still standing and was letting her tears out. Aveline bowed her head in respect as Wesley prayed.

"Our lives mean more to him than our prayers," Marian said as she stood up. "I'm sorry mother but we need to go," she softly held Leandra's shoulders and lifted her off of the floor.

"Flames, we're too late," Aveline growled as she drew her sword.

More and more darkspawn began to flood onto the hilltop. Marian grit her teeth together, she was ready to fight but not to die before keeping the promise she made to her father.

"COME ON YOU BASTARDS!" Carver yelled.

The snarling and roaring darkspawn prepared to charge. Suddenly, the ground itself shook as a roar echoed through the sky.

"LOOK!" Bethany yelled, pointing to the south.

A dragon swooped over the Darkspawn, spraying a cloud of fire onto the creatures. Marian looked at the dragon in shock. It had two curved horns on its head and was a red colour. The dragon swooped by again, grabbing a load of darkspawn in its mouth. Flying high into the air the dragon let the darkspawn go, leaving them to fall as it dived back into the flames, squishing hurlocks with its tail and crushing them with talons. The dragon raised its head, looking at Marian and her group. Marian stood her ground and she was shocked a second time as the dragon's scales began to glow. It left behind a silhouette, like the spirit of a great dragon as it shrunk. When the faded image of the dragon disappeared a new, human like figure walked through the flames, dragging a burning darkspawn behind her. She was dressed in armour made from primitive and ugly materials, clawed gauntlets covered her hands, metal boots ran from her thighs to her feet, partially covered by a red robe. Her hair was white but it was not merely a reflection of her age, and she appeared to be generations older than Leandra. Marian couldn't tell if the woman was wearing a helmet that mimicked the dragon's horns, of if she truly possessed horns. Marian put on a brave and defiant face, but she couldn't stop her hands from shaking. The witch, whatever she was shaped her lips into a grin and spoke in an amused tone.

"Well, well…what have we here?"

Next Chapter 3: The hero of Ferelden

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Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter, next time Marian finishes recounting the tale of how she met Flemeth and listens to Varric's depiction of the battle of Denerim and the day her cousin became a hero.


	4. Chapter 3: the Hero of Ferelden

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age

The introduction of Flemeth, the recounting of the battle of Denerim and Hawke's service to the Red Iron mercenary. In the flashback to Denerim Daylen is wearing armour similar to the kind worn by the character on the front cover of Dragon Age Origins and in the sacred ashes trailer, Leliana is also wearing her armour from that same trailer.

Hope everyone enjoys the chapter

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Rise of the Hawkes: Reunion

Chapter 3: The hero of Ferelden

"I'm telling you Varric, something was off about that woman, but there wasn't a lot I could do in that situation. If I tried anything my family and I never would have gotten to Kirkwall, I wouldn't be helping your brother."

Varric Tethras considered himself to be a good storyteller. There was a certain power in stories that couldn't be denied. That's all that history was, a story passed down from one person to another and if told the right way could be forged into a tale, a legend that all men and women in Thedas know of. The dwarf sat in his usual place, the only place in Kirkwall someone could get a drink other than the brothel. The hanged man had been part of Lowtown since the city was freed from the Imperium. Kirkwall had three major sections, Hightown where the nobility ruled the city with the Chantry and the Viscount's grand keep, Lowtown, the system of concrete buildings around the cargo port and warehouses where the peasants lived and Darktown, what could best be described as the sewers where the lowest class of Kirkwall's citizens lived. When the refugees poured in from Ferelden many had spent most of their coin just to get through the gates. Those who couldn't pay were sent back to Ferelden, many out of hopeless desperation gave all they had to get into the city. The only place they could stay was Darktown. Once word came back that the Darkspawn had been defeated many Fereldan's felt that they had made the wrong choice in going to Kirkwall.

"There was no other choice really," Varric's favourite business and drinking partner continued her tale of how she came to the city of chains.

Marian would never forget the face of the shape shifter. She wondered if it was her true face, or whether it was yet another disguise she used.

"It used to be that we never got visitors in the wild, now they arrive in droves," she said.

"Neat trick, turning into a dragon," of course Marian hid her fear with bravado.

"Perhaps I am a dragon, be thankful that the stench of smoking darkspawn does little for the appetite," the witch said. "If you are looking to flee the darkspawn then you should know you are going the wrong way, only the south can offer safe passage."

"The wilds are to the south," Carver said.

"We don't have enough food for camping in the wilds," Bethany noted.

"Wesley wont make it that far either," Aveline said.

"If you must, leave me behind."

"No, I swore that I would drag you out of here if need be and I will."

Varric watched as Marian tilted the contents of her cup down her throat.

"Looking at Aveline and her husband, I could tell he wasn't going to make it, he had the taint, the darkspawn corruption. That witch looked at them to and then at me and I think she knew too, I think she knew that I knew," she explained.

"She knew you knew she knew," the dwarf said in good humour.

But much to Varric's shock Marian's face was devoid of humour. Ever since she arrived in Kirkwall, Marian had formed a reputation for her quick wit and skill with the bow. Her quick wit had gotten her out of sticky situations without having to knock an arrow and made her a few friends in Dark and Low town. But when she was serious, when nothing amused her, when she had cleared her mind of all sympathy and guilt her arrows could fly truer than even the finest marksmen of the city guard. Her reputation and the very life of her family was under threat because of her aim, though some would probably debate it as her sense of honour as well.

'Lets settle one story first,' Varric thought as he focused on Hawke.

Many called her Hawke as opposed to Marian. She was the leader of the trio she and her siblings formed, the Hawkes. Marian's journey to Kirkwall had not gone easy. The witch whom had rescued her family lingered over them. Marian tried to dismiss her by saying they could get to Gwaren on their own, it was both an attempt to lure her away and draw her in. She knew the shape shifter was bad news but she also knew that her curiosity hadn't been sated by the sight of someone killing an ogre as she claimed.

"I can get you to Gwaren," the witch said.

"What's the catch?" Marian asked.

"There is always a catch, life is a catch, I suggest you catch it while you can."

"I don't know about this Marian," Bethany whispered to her sister.

"We don't even know what she is," Carver muttered.

"I know what she is, or rather who, Flemeth, witch of the wilds," Aveline said.

"That is what some call me, others Asha'Bellanar, or an old hag who talks too much," that last part made the witch smile.

Marian had scared her siblings with tales of Flemeth. How Flemeth was lurking within the wilds, waiting to drag exploring children away to boil in a pot. Even when Carver got older Marian would annoy him with stories about attractive wild women, daughters of Flemeth waiting to tire young virgins out with sex, for their mother to use in torturous rituals before eating them. Looking upon Flemeth face to face, mere feet from being able to touch, Marian began understanding the measure of truth many legends had.

"That'll be what I remember you as if you cant deliver on your claims," Marian said defiantly.

Flemeth rolled her head back and laughed. It was a laugh of genuine amusement but it disturbed Marian's family.

"You I like, so much like another I've recently met," Flemeth hummed, looking at Marian curiously. "I wonder," she muttered as she stroked her chin.

She produced from her robe an amulet, the markings of which Marian ignorantly guessed to be elvhan. Flemeth walked towards Marian and placed the amulet in her hand.

"I will take you as far as Gwaren, but you must stay in Kirkwall for a year at least, before you decide to leave or pursue your own interests in the city you must go to the bottom of Sundermount, to a dalish camp and give this amulet to their keeper Marethari. Do whatever she commands you to do with the trinket and any debt between us will be paid in full, give me your answer quickly girl, I have a schedule to keep," Flemeth smiled darkly as Marian looked at the amulet.

Marian looked at the members of her family. They all looked to her for an answer. The situation was so glum that they had stopped debating; the choice was hers as was the consequences. She sighed as she pocketed the amulet and looked at Flemeth.

"I'd have to get to Kirkwall first," she said.

"And get there you shall, but first there is another issue," Flemeth said as she turned to Aveline and Wesley.

"No, you leave him alone," Aveline said.

She grabbed her sword, not even hesitating as the flicker of sympathy crossed the witch's face.

"What has been done to your man is within his blood already," she said.

"No, you lie!"

"Aveline," Wesley called out to his wife, trying to grab her hand.

Aveline turned and both Flemeth and Marian walked up beside her.

"Its too late, I can feel the corruption inside of me," Wesley said.

"The darkspawn taint," Marian said.

"The only way to cure it that I know of is to become a grey warden," Flemeth said.

"And they all died at Ostagar," Carver sighed.

"No, two survivors passed through Lothering," Bethany said.

"But they are still beyond your reach," Flemeth said.

Aveline knelt by her husband, touching the sides of his face. Wesley looked at the taller woman with the love and affection he had been putting into their marriage for years. Marian saw the hurt expression across Aveline's face. On their first meeting Marian saw the ginger haired woman as a strong warrior, fitting for her name. But looking at her with her dying husband she saw the kind of woman she truly was. A woman whom had found love and happiness with a single man, but was going to lose that love.

"Please Aveline, the taint is a painful death I cant…" Wesley coughed out spots of blood, looking at Aveline for mercy.

'Should I do it for her?' Marian wondered, but then lowered her head.

She had no right to kill Aveline's husband. Marian placed her hand on Aveline's shoulder.

"None but you can decide his fate Aveline," she said.

Aveline nodded her head and grabbed Wesley's hand. He withdrew a dagger from his belt and placed it on his chest, near his heart. The woman adjusted the position of the blade, so it would better slide through his armour. She touched his cheek affectionately and placed her hand on the pommel of the dagger.

"Be strong my love," Wesley said.

To her credit Aveline didn't close her eyes, even as Wesley yelled out in pain. When his head fell she closer his eyes and kissed his forehead. Marian turned away from Aveline, trying not to give sympathy when she knew Aveline wouldn't appreciate it. Flemeth walked up behind Aveline, as if approving of what she had done. The witch seemed to have sympathy for the woman, perhaps indicating that there was something to the stories told of Flemeth's love when she was human. No words were really spoken, in fact Marian couldn't recall any conversation she had with Aveline, her family or even Flemeth as the shape shifter took them to the woods near Gwaren. Once there they put their coin together to pay for a ship to Kirkwall, there was nothing left for Aveline in Ferelden.

"I don't know what really bought me here, I wasn't scared of the Blight, and as much as an ass as Carver seems I know he can protect mother and Bethany. It was only really mother who wanted to go, though don't tell her that…in fact Varric don't talk to my mother ever," Marian said to the dwarf.

"I'm quite sure your mother would enjoy my company Hawke," Varric said.

"Not if you tell those embellished stories about my time in the Red Iron," Hawke growled.

"Ah, how you epically fired an arrow into Meeran's hand when he threatened Bethany," the dwarf grinned before drinking.

"It wasn't epic it was a stupid decision, I had just rejected his order to kill Lord Harimann, I saw him talking with Bethany and I assumed he was threatening her," Hawke explained.

"How did you end up working for the Red Iron anyway?" Varric asked.

Marian took another shot before delving into what happened after the two-week sail to Kirkwall had ended. Upon reaching Kirkwall the Hawke family plus Aveline found hordes of Fereldans begging to enter the city. Marian managed to speak with the guard captain and dropped her uncle Gamlen's name. Her grandparents inconveniently died when Carver and Bethany had been born, leaving only Leandra's younger brother Gamlen to claim the estate. Even though Gamlen never wrote to them they all assumed he was still a noble living in high town.

"HA! Gamlen a noble, I tell you he looks like he was born to live in low town," Varric chuckled.

Hawke shot the dwarf a look to silence his amusement. She continued on, not needing to tell him of her uncle's reputation as a weasel and a cheat. He still loved the family enough to give the family a way into Kirkwall and a place to stay. Gamlen had incurred a debt with the local mercenary group, the Red Iron. They were generally tolerated as they tended to stay out of politics, even aiding the high town nobility at times. Their leader Meeran was a vulgar man, Gamlen had said he was the typical sell sword but fair to a degree and when he heard about the talents of the siblings (especially Bethany) he was eager to recruit them as indentured servants. Part of their servitude involved working off the debt for a year.

"We did well enough, but as we got closer and closer to the end of the year, Meeran's ambitions got more and more dangerous, you know that murderer whom had escaped from the city guard?" Marian asked.

"Yeah, he killed elf children, a sick bastard too," Varric shuddered, though he had seen and done his fair share of bloody things there were certain perversions that disgusted him.

"He had been chased down to a cave, a cave known for giant spiders. The magistrate wanted him bought in alive but the guard captain at the time Ewald wasn't willing to risk his men to chase after someone who should have been executed years ago. Meeran got Carver, Bethany, myself and a few others to go after the murderer, when we got there Aveline offered to help but not before an elf merchant showed up, 'he took my daughter into those caves and killed her,' he looked so certain, so angry but also desperate. Elves can earn gold and gain reputation but in most cases they are always only ever seen as second-class citizens, it's a problem across all of Thedas. The other guards kept on reminding us of Magistrate Vanard's orders, I went on through without really knowing what I was going to do. Once we finished with the spiders and traps we found the elf's daughter, she was a little bruised but otherwise unharmed…I suppose she was delusional in a way."

"How so?" Varric asked.

Marian lowered her head to her drink as she spoke.

"She told us not to hurt him, that it wasn't his fault, demon's made him do it. Bethany was a little scared, Carver was sceptical and I kept as open a mind as I could, as did Aveline. I sent Bethany back with the girl and we advanced onwards, spiders and Undead came down from the ceiling or up from the ground respectively and attacked us, killing Meeran's men and leaving only myself, Carver and Aveline. We found the murderer, Kelder, sitting by a pillar, he had this contemplative look in his eyes and I could tell he had been crying. I did what my father taught me to do, listen to his story," Hawke sighed and leant back on her chair, playing with the bangs of her hair.

"Was it a good one?" the dwarf asked as he drank.

"He said that demons speak in his head, whispering commands, demanding that he take the lives of pure and beautiful elf girls. Kelder said that his father had taken him the circle, that the circle lied about him being possessed by demons…it was utter bullshit of course, the circle for all its faults wouldn't have lied about something so serious, he was no mage, just a sad and sick minded man protected by his father," Hawke continued, slamming her cup into the table after she had finished her drink.

"The Magistrate," Varric guessed whom Kelder's father was immediately.

"Exactly, the bastard used his power to protect that murderer, to keep him from hanging, some might say there is something to be admired about his actions, not me however, I hated him for it and when Kelder asked me, no begged me to kill him I obliged. I stabbed him the chest first and then sliced open his throat for good measure, I stayed until his body stopped twitching, then I threw the body into a spider's web and watched the monsters eat what was left," Hawke explained.

"That must have disconcerted Carver and Aveline."

"Aveline more so than Carver, do you want to know the funny thing Varric, it disturbed me too, I emptied my stomach and after I told everyone outside that I witnessed Kelder being ripped apart by monsters I actually felt sick again, but it was different, not so much guilt over him dying but over how I did it, I had so much malice and hatred in my eyes…its only now that I actually feel sorry for him, so sad, what happened in his life to make him that way, the Chantry says we should fear the demons of the fade but what about the demons of our own making?"

"That's pretty much what I've been thinking ever since I was old enough to witness death, what happened next?" Varric asked.

"We reported to the Magistrate that his son was dead, I was so angry at the time that I actually revealed everything that I knew, right to his face," Marian said.

"For a lady you've got balls Hawke, no wonder Meeran's been here talking about how he'll get even with that 'self righteous bitch and her fucking dumb shit brother and cunt sister'," Varric tried keeping a straight face but ended up smirking.

"He always has had a way with words, I think that's what my brother liked about him, first man we killed for him he said 'good job, let the crows eat him up and shit him into the ocean'," Marian laughed.

"And here we are, your debt paid, a few enemies made, a reputation formed…Hawke, champion of the needy," Varric raised his cup and smirked.

"Very funny Varric, that reputation didn't help me when I went to your brother, that was a waste of time," Hawke sighed.

"Ah don't give up just yet, the deeproads after a blight, so little darkspawn and so much undiscovered treasure to discover, what woman and her family in need of coin and status can resist such an opportunity?" Varric asked with a glint of suggestion in his eyes.

"What are you suggesting that I make my own expedition? That would piss your brother off."

"As much as I would like to see Bartrand's face when that happens I'm afraid I couldn't condone you going off on your own. You've got experience with darkspawn, you have a decent enough reputation and you have a serious investment in the success of an expedition. My brother and I don't need more hirelings, we need a partner, someone to invest in the expedition with us and secure certain items that will insure not just our own survival in the deeproads, but our success is finding something of value," Varric explained.

"You're suggesting me?" Marian asked and Varric nodded. "I wouldn't be asking Bartrand for a job if I didn't need the coin," she said.

"There are opportunities everywhere to make coin, you just need to know where to look and lucky for you I know where to look. I've got contacts throughout the city, hell I've got contacts outside of the city as far as Ferelden," the dwarf chuckled.

"Did you ever hear anything about the blight? Anything specific like the activities of the grey warden?" Marian asked.

Varric leant back in his chair and bought his fingers together.

"I had a few contacts in the Orzammar military and in Denerim, they saw things," Varric said as he reached behind his chair and withdrew a book.

He slid the book across the table to Marian's hands. She flipped open a few pages before coming across a drawing.

"The art was done by a young man in Redcliffe who had a talent for art and song, although the unrated version really captured the assets of the warden's female companions," Varric grinned.

"I've really got no interest in pictures," Hawke said.

"Not even to know what your cousin looked like?" the dwarf asked.

Hawke raised her eyebrows in confusion before she realised that it wasn't all that strange that Varric would know of her connection to the hero of Ferelden. A month after news of the darkspawn defeat Leandra told her children about their family. The Amells had always had magic in their blood, Aristide's intention had been to marry off Leandra to a line that had very little magic in it, his belief was that the joining of the Amell and DeLauncets would dilute the magic just enough to leave an age of magic out of the Amell family. Fausten of course disagreed and Leandra often told her children of her uncle's theory that magic would always be a part of the Amell family. This was especially apparent in the eldest son of her cousin Revka.

"A tall man, brown haired with red eyes, apparently a result of consorting with demons at the age of three, or was he four? Anyway people commonly believed he was the image of an Amell, dark haired and blue eyes, but apparently he isn't right?" Varric asked.

"My mother was with me when she left Kirkwall, which was round about the same time Daylen was sent to the Ferelden circle. Bethany was shocked to learn that the hero was one of ours, she once told me that she could have been the hero of Ferelden," Marian explained.

Marian kept the detail to herself but she knew that Bethany's interest in Daylen had been more than just the admiration of a warden. She knew that that interesting man she saw briefly at Ostagar, and whom had passed through Lothering had been her sister's first great attraction.

"This doesn't have any of your usual embellishments in it does it?" she asked as she turned the pages of the book.

"I was using that as a guideline for my version of the warden's tale, mine involves an encounter with a Rivaini captain in a bar, a red haired Orlesian and an Antivan elf all pining over our young protagonist, but then they decide to share…"

"Please don't put that image in my head," Marian shivered.

"You have no sense for entertainment Hawke, your second cousin is the desire of most women in Thedas, save for templars…scratch that, certain templars probably have dreams about it. Anyway I borrowed that book off of a friend in Denerim, someone your cousin actually saved, he had spoken with elves in the alienage and the surviving guards at the gates and put this book together alongside the artist. Keep it if you'd like Hawke, consider it a gift to signify our partnership," Varric grinned.

Hawke raised her eyebrows, causing the dwarf to hastily raise his hands.

"Not that kind of partnership," he said.

"Always up to something aren't you Varric?" Hawke asked.

"Its part of the job of a professional younger brother, I need to think ahead of my brother, I need to keep things moving while he takes credit for both the good and the bad. Making coin is easy enough if you know who to approach Hawke, I know who to approach and don't forget you've got some friends yourself…so what do you say Hawke, partners?" Varric extended his hand, smiling at the elder Hawke.

Marian grinned as she took the dwarf's hand. They shook hands and at the same time finished their drinks. If there was anyone in Kirkwall Marian trusted not to stab her in the back it was Varric Tethras. The dwarf storyteller was popular but also respectable. As a surface dwarf from birth he wasn't trapped by the usual dwarven superstitions and traditions. His faith was a mix between that of the common dwarven tradition of worshipping your ancestors and the human (and some elves) belief in the chant of light, though he wasn't a devote follower. But above his faith was his morality, he wouldn't betray a partner and he'd stand by his friends and even respect his rivals enough to not attack them.

"Tell me, if there was one word all of your contacts and friends used to describe cousin Daylen what was it?" Hawke asked.

Varric put a hand to his chin, thinking about what his contacts in Ferelden all said concerning the hero.

"Hope, that's what they describe him as, the hope that brings light when all seems lost," he said.

"Why Varric, you ought to try your hand at writing a serious story and not your 'friend fictions', you'd never know, you writing a legend would be…awesome," Marian grinned.

"That's given me an idea Hawke, go and tell your family the good news," Varric said.

Marian nodded her head before placing the book in her satchel. Walking out into the streets of Lowtown Marian felt the eyes of men and some women on her. Some possibly looked for the obvious reason, her reputation as a do gooder, others because of her looks and some because they intimidated by her. Her daggers were strapped to the back of her green-layered tunic, the only thing other than coin she kept from her days in the mercenary company. She walked into neighbourhood Gamlen's home was located in. The hovels were built sturdy, but they were not the cleanest places in all of Kirkwall. It was still a home though and Marian would not wish for any place that didn't have her family, even uncle Gamlen in it. She stepped into the house and smiled at the sight that befell her. Bethany was helping mother prepare dinner and Gamlen was preparing the table. Stew and wooden cups was the best they could do, but at least they had each other. Marian hugged her mother before going to the room she and her siblings shared. Carver was standing in the middle of the room, shirtless and swinging a wooden club like a blade.

"Always practicing I see, maybe if you looked for a job you could put some of that skill to use," Marian said.

"I don't need employment advice from someone who has to resort to working with a slippery bastard like Bartrand," Carver retorted.

"How is your search for another job going?" Marian grinned as her brother shot a glare at her.

"I'm not saying I need to rely on you, but I could use a little help, this expedition is for all of us right, so we should all have a chance to profit from it," he explained.

"We wont be profiting from anything in a while Carver, its time we started saving our coin up, investing in the deep roads expedition," Marian explained.

"What did you do Marian?" Bethany asked as she dumped a pile of carrots into the stew pot.

"I'm a partner in the first expedition of Kirkwall into the deep roads. Tomorrow Varric and I will be discussing ways to raise money for the expedition and possible guards we could recruit, because the muscle Bartrand has been thinking about wont cut it in the deep roads," Marian continued despite Carver's disapproving look.

"You're serious, a partner, and how much exactly are we supposed to raise for this expedition?" the young man asked.

"Fifty sovereigns and before you say anything think about it, the deep roads are practically another world, a world filled with treasure waiting to be discovered," Marian said.

"They're also dangerous," Leandra said.

"Our family has practically thrived on danger mother," Marian grinned.

"No, do not use your cousin's success as an excuse to seek out danger, its fool hardy and disrespectful," the former Amell heir preached to her children.

Marian lowered her head slightly, even Carver felt sorry. Though he didn't show it, Carver had respect for his cousin as well; he just didn't want to come off as a worshipper as his twin often did.

"It would be disrespect not to put our best effort forward mother, I saw cousin at Lothering mother, he had every reason to play it safe and just leave Lothering but he stayed just long enough to help the refugees willing to run escape, he helped everyone at the chantry and even gave away his own herbs and equipment to people who needed it," Bethany explained.

"And he still succeeded in saving Denerim, or at least a very large portion of it," Marian said. "All whilst wielding an elf blade, a warden shield and plate armour," she grinned as her siblings looked at her in confusion. "Read it in a book," she showed them the said book and smiled as Bethany's eyes lit up.

Bethany had been collecting many post blight books, her collection included 'The Far Cliffs of Kirkwall', 'Lothering's Lament' and 'Of Things not Lost', she had been saving coin to buy Genitivi's published diary of his experience searching for the earn of sacred ashes. She took the book from her sister and opened it to the artists depiction of Daylen, the black image showed a young man standing atop a hill, dressed in plate armour with the only colour being the blood on his shoulder pad and chest and the blood across his face. The armour Daylen had worn was very close to what true grey warden's wore, save for the fact that it didn't include the blue and white tunic underneath it. It was lighter than the full plate armour Loghain wore. Daylen had been drawn with a broad sword, but according to many accounts the warden had carried a shorter, curved sword of elven design, a sword named spell weaver.

"The battle of Denerim, the moment our cousin's name would be remembered throughout Thedas," Bethany said.

"Don't over dramatise, Kirkwall didn't give a shit about the blight, it ended so quickly that people thought it was a hoax," Gamlen huffed.

It wasn't a case of Gamlen not feeling proud of what his cousin's son had achieved, rather it was the anger he felt every time he went into the hanged man. There were some people in Kirkwall whom didn't know the name of the hero of Ferelden, or what family he originated from. Many just didn't care to know, some believed that there in fact had never been a blight, others believed that the warden, whatever his name was had simply been a mage redeeming himself for the sin of magic creating the darkspawn (if the chantry's account of their origins was to be believed).

"Ha, those ignorant pigs and pompous nobles cant all say that they have relative who was a genuine hero," Carver said.

"Read it Marian," Bethany offered her the book back.

"No Bethany you should read it," Marian said.

Bethany looked at the book and smiled before opening it. She felt that in a way she could not only hear of her cousin's exploits but speak of them to others. One exploit in particular would be told from the words of men and women whom had watched him fight that dark but glorious day at Denerim. The tale rolled smoothly off of Bethany's tongue as she recounted the battle that signalled the end of the fifth blight.

* * *

What had once been a grand city had become a funeral pyre, a pyre for the old kingdom. If there was one thing that died first that day it was our hope. Before they arrived we could only imagine the terror the army at Ostagar must have felt, seeing the monsters marching from the woods. They had come from the direction of Redcliffe, in formation like an organised army and but there was no general leading from the front or the back ranks. The general of the darkspawn flew down from the skies, swooping through the streets of Denerim, setting houses ablaze with his breath. Though there was a garrison of royal troops, these were men that hadn't seen combat in years, men whom expected to never have to fight for the gates of Denerim were strong. But not even stern iron could hold against a family of ogres. They smashed through the gates and stomped through the initial defenders. Then the spawn flooded into the city, overwhelming the home troops. There was only one way in or out of Denerim and the darkspawn took complete control within the first wave and like predators they scattered, looking for prey, smashing down doors, dragging peasants and nobles alike out onto the streets. But they did not immediately execute or butcher the people where they stood. It was as if they were waiting for their victims to give up their hope completely. Hope is a tenacious feeling though, it can be taken away easily and it takes much to bring it back.

Hope for us came from the cry of the guard on the wall. Defending himself from darkspawn archers he looked upon the direction of Redcliffe and before succumbing to an arrow bellowed one final call of hope to the surviving soldiers.

"THE WARDENS!" he yelled.

His yell echoed through our ears as a grand mass stampeded towards the city. Men at the gates, helpless under the blades of the darkspawn had a final moment of comfort, the sight of the grand army the warden had gathered running towards the gate was enough to bring smiles to some men before they died. The darkspawn however must have felt fear, they must have for what entered the city would have been enough to scare any creature of the old ways. It was once said that the only unity seen of the people of Thedas was that of the darkspawn, creatures born from women of many races united under a single dark goal. But one man had bought together an army the likes of which had not been seen in Thedas for an age. An army of men, knights from across the lands of Ferelden, of dwarves united under the banner of a new king in Orzammar, Dalish elves, clad in light armour and arrows flying from their bows and mages freed from the circle for one service to the land and the maker.

At the front of this grand army could be seen one man and his many followers. If you were lucky enough you would catch sight of his blade, slicing through darkspawn like lightning, surrounded by flame and the light of the wielders own spirit. His spirit was so strong that it seemed to enhance the weapons of all those whom followed him. Like a mage he empowered those behind him and like a warrior he crashed through dawkspawn, smashing their faces with the shield and cleaving through them with the sword. He and the hero of River Dane Loghain Mac Tir moved like one, defending against attacks and cutting down one darkspawn after another. Their troops cut and smashed darkspawn to the ground, nailed them with arrows or burnt them with magic. The warden hero threw his shield and it span, turning into a disc shaped blade that sliced through the head of an ogre. When the ogre fell a cheer erupted from the army and the hero raised his sword.

"MOVE THROUGH THE STREETS! DRIVE THEM TO FORT DRAKON!" he roared as his armour shined and his body took on a ghostly appearance as if nothing in the world could harm him.

With a swing of his sword the army moved, smashing into the darkspawn line. Following the orders of the man whom bought them together, Daylen Amell. Balls of fire flew across the streets, lightning rushed through the darkspawn. The mages of the circle empowered the weapons of the warriors with all manner of elements; even arrows were enchanted by fire and ice. They were natural crowd dispersers but also healers, for every four men wounded on the field one mage would be all it took to heal them just enough for them to continue fighting. There was no greater healer than Wynne, whom seemed to generate healing magic, around her the men seemed to be able to take even the most vicious of cuts and still fight on. Whilst Wynne bought them peace, a red headed dwarf made a bloody mess of the field. Though small, Oghren was like a boulder rolling down hill, beheading one darkspawn and cutting through their flesh one at a time. Loghain too fought well alongside an Orlesian woman of all people. She was bound in armour worn over a black tunic, stabbing Darkspawn with twin daggers as Loghain split heads open with the sword of his friend and our old king Maric. Daylen moved like lightning, his sword passing through his enemies as easily as his ghostly form. Soldiers would later bellow tales in the bars of how the warden blocked a hurlock's axe with his gauntlet, showing that though the ghostly form of an arcane warrior was not invulnerable he would not fear the enemy blades. He didn't really need the protection of a shield, not only did he move faster with just a single sword, but he had protection in the form of two friends and a very faithful Mabari. One was an elf and the other of all things was a Qunari. As if representing both the strength and culture of his people the Qunari giant painted his face white and red and smashed through the monsters with a ferocity and strength that outmatched them. His war hammer broke apart armour and bone alike. The elf had a more subtle form of fighting, stabbing through the gaps in armour with a knife and slashing throats with an axe, the blonde haired elf was still as devoted to Daylen's protection as the Mabari that pounced on any darkspawn that approached his master. Daylen sliced the legs off of a genlock and then stabbed its head with his sword.

That's when the moment came, the moment when Daylen sent orders to his troops, splitting them into groups, groups compromised of members of all three armies equally moving through Denerim towards fort Drakon, whilst another, bolstered by Daylen's own companions would protect the gate. He removed his helmet, revealing a young man's face, but his eyes, one would say they were corrupted by magic and others would say that it was war. War had aged those eyes, forcing more strength and sorrow into them. Blood dripped from his hair; it had stained his face but not his soul. There was a certainty in his eyes that slowly grew as he bid farewell to each of his companions, even the companions whom would join him in his march through Denerim. Only those whom spoke know what was said, only those whom spoke knew it was a goodbye.

His goal was set, not for Drakon but another place that needed him. The alienage was barely holding, the gates were mere wood, incapable of standing up to the fists of an ogre. Fear gripped the elves that day, even the courageous leader awakened that day. Shianni determination was only matched by her dedication to her people. Hope was relit by Daylen's arrival, Shianni begged for help but she didn't have to.

"Converge at the gate," he told the knights, "Assist the wounded, get the children and those incapable of fighting towards the back of the hospice, it's a defendable position. I need you to fight with me," he gave orders like a born leader and Shianni looked at the man in confusion.

It had not been the first time he had helped them without want of reward.

"Whatever this place represents to your people and mine, know that it is your home, your home…fight for it, stay by your houses, and shoot down anything that breaks through our lines," the passion and courage in the mages voice was enough persuade Shianni.

Those capable of fighting took up the bow, or the spear and they set themselves down like rocks, ready to defend their homes or die trying. Daylen however took up position with the troops and readied themselves at the gates. He sheathed his sword and took up his staff and stepped up towards the marksman's platform beside the gate. Many recounted how the hero tilted a vial down his throat, a lyrium potion. As soon as the glass shattered against the floor mana surrounded the warden. He crossed his arms together, gripping his staff and shaping the magic to fit his choice of attack and with a thrust of his arm he sent the magic into the air, just as the darkspawn began their approach towards the gate. A blizzard hit the darkspawn wave, freezing some in place, once the blizzard passed the elves let loose a volley of arrows. The ogre shrugged off the arrows and dived through the gate, squashing several soldiers beneath him. Panic nearly consumed the soldiers, but Daylen rushed towards the darkspawn and that simple act of bravery pushed the troops harder than any order could.

"HELP THE WARDEN!" Loghain's order spoke of his faith in the hero.

He rushed in front of Daylen, snapping the darkspawn spears with his shield and with a single swing he slashed the throats of the three Hurlock vanguards. Loghain then grabbed Daylen's shoulder and pushed him to the ground.

"FIRE!" the former lord yelled.

The arrows flew over the two wardens heads, striking the darkspawn in front of them. Daylen rose and looked back at the alienage. Shianni moved through the crowds and looked to the warden. Any other commander would have left the alienage to fend for itself. But because of Daylen not only were Shianni's people safe but also protected. Battle changes a person; some are changed for the worst, others for the best. There was no hatred between any person on the battlefield, they were united through shared grief and shared purpose, to protect their way of life. Shianni looked at the warden and smiled, whispering a thank you. She would not forget his kindness.

"We must move towards Drakon, Riordan said that he would drive the archdemon to the fort," Daylen said.

Wynn, Leliana and Loghain followed him with the army falling slightly behind. They ran across the bridge just the Archdemon swooped downwards, launching fire at the bridge. The four rushed through the gate with only a small number of men, those whom fell behind were either burned or blocked by the wall of fire the archdemon made. They could only watch as the hero and his companions ran on the path towards fort Drakon.

* * *

"The night seemed eternal, fighting continued across Denerim. Defeat never occurred to the warriors for they had already gained a considerable advantage over the darkspawn," Bethany continued to read as her family watched and listened.

Even Gamlen and Carver sat at their chairs, eagerly awaiting the next part of the story.

"News reached the streets, the warden and his companions had reached Fort Drakon. Occasionally soldiers could look up to the spire and see the purple flames of the Archdemon gushing across the sky. The brave grey warden Riordan had given his life to ground the dragon on the fort; all that was left was for the warden and his companions to fight on. Many soldiers had gone into the fort but none came out, save for remarkably a dwarf boy. The warden and his companions however, one could imagine the struggle the warden had to go through. The cry of victory came when a great light shined from the tower, an explosion of energy cleared the clouds and the darkspawn were overcome by something none thought they were capable of feeling, fear. They ran, the rest of the world was nothing to them; they just had to get away from the city. Many soldiers pursued, but most gathered at Drakon. They waited and waited until finally two of the hero's companions emerged. Leliana the bard and Wynn the mage, what they said made the army erupt with cheers."

"The hero was victorious, the archdemon is dead," both Carver and Marian said.

"What ever happened to me reading it?" Bethany asked.

"I didn't realise Carver had read it already, I knew you admired our cousin brother," Marian grinned as Carver turned his head away.

"Loghain died and Daylen went onto serve as chancellor for a time before ruling over Amaranthine, such success within a mere year of his life," Leandra smiled, thinking of how proud Revka and her uncle would be of Daylen.

"But it makes you wonder," Marian mused.

"Wonder what sister?" Carver asked.

"How did cousin defeat the demon and what exactly happened to Loghain?"

The Hawke siblings thought about their cousin and the struggle he had gone through. All three of them wanted to know what had driven him through the hell of war. For Carver and Marian it was particularly difficult, they felt like cowards in comparison to their cousin. They ran from Ostagar, they ran from Loghain's men and the darkspawn but their cousin never ran, he kept on fighting even though he was outnumbered. Marian wondered if she could do what her cousin could do, gather allies and influence to fulfil a goal. The twins also wondered if they could ever match the courage and heroism of their cousin Daylen Amell. A flash suddenly broke the family from their thoughts and water began to leak into the house.

"Blasted rain," Gamlen growled as he grabbed a nearby bucket.

"A storm is coming," Marian muttered.

"You speak as if its to be feared, don't tell me you believe the superstitions sister," Carver chuckled.

"Of course not, I mean Thedas has faced the fifth blight, I doubt the darkspawn will have recovered enough to begin another one. What could come that would be worse than a blight?"

Despite her sister's smile, Bethany felt uneasy. Father always told her that there were worse things than darkspawn and despite what all others said a part of Bethany felt he was right. If there was something worse than a blight then it would surely be the end of the world as people knew it. A storm was indeed brewing.

Next chapter 4: Through the storm

* * *

There will be more flashbacks throughout the story, both to Daylen's past and the past of the Hawkes. Next time we return to Daylen on the sea as his ship is swept into the storm by mysterious attackers. Daylen's fifth companion is also revealed.


	5. Chapter 4: Through the storm

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age

Another update, along with edits to my previous chapters, I also introduce the antagonist of the overall series I'm planning, each arc will have a main antagonist whilst this OC is the driving force behind them.  
This and the identity of the mystery companion is revealed.

* * *

Rise of the Hawks: Reunion

Chapter 4: Through the storm

There was a storm coming, Adaar could feel it in not just the wind, but in the very eyes of the people staring up at him. They thought of the storm as an ill omen, they did not see nearly as well as Adaar could. Her eyes had been honed as not just a warrior but a hunter as well. From her spot on the crows nest of the ship she could fire an arrow into the wind and still hit the pirates on the ships leagues away from the transport vessel. But Ashkaari did not preach of random violence, he preached of better ways, of looking before you leaped, of knowing exactly who your enemy was and who was in the wrong. Yet another piece of wisdom the Ashkaari gave was that sometimes there was no right person, no right belief. You could dedicate everything you are to something and you still wouldn't have an answer. The Qunari never did anything without reason, so why go to Kirkwall if not to conquer it? The sailors wanted to avoid the storm, but the wind was pushing all ships to Kirkwall. Another force seemed intent on pushing Adaar and her companion to that forsaken island they called the free marches.

* * *

Lightning was flashing in the clouds and the winds had grown fierce. A boy on the sails fell away from his line, towards the edge of the water. Daylen motioned his hand, creating a subtle force to throw the sailor back onto the boat; the event went unnoticed in the confusion of the sailors shuffling about, working to prepare the ship for the storm. The captain stood on the top deck yelling orders, but his face read a different story. He was afraid; the storm was growing fiercer by the minute. Daylen walked to the side of the boat and looked towards the very heart of the storm. He widened his eyes slightly as he saw fire fly amongst the rain. The sailors pointed to it at awe, muttering stuff about magic. Daylen knew better however, it was not the fire of a spell but something different, fire born of natural invention, cannon fire.

"The Qunari," he muttered.

But why were the Antaam as far as Kirkwall? Daylen poked his hand around his pouch and pulled out the spyglass he carried. He looked through the scope towards the Qunari dreadnought. It was a far cry from its intimidating glory; both the storm and the vessel the Qunari were chasing had done their damage. Daylen watched as the dreadnought slammed into the rocks near Kirkwall. He was probably the only person on the boat hoping the crew had made it off. Of course he was concerned about the other ship, it too had fallen apart. But if the Qunari had attacked it then the crew were not victims, even the Antaam never did something without reason. Though there were only two Kossith that would call Daylen friend, the rest of the Qunari certainly bore him no ill will, which was more than he could say for the rest of Thedas.

Part of the reason he had chosen to take on a mask had been because of the reputation he had already built up. Some in Ferelden said he helped people more than the Chantry, which to the zealots meant he was a threat to the popularity of the church. This was especially apparent in the Chantry capital, Orlais, the few times Daylen visited on diplomatic affairs for Anora he would see the looks from the priests. They despised that he was a hero to people, yet did nothing to endorse the chant. Even in Ferelden there were nobles who disliked him. Some even formed rumours that the reason Anora did not choose a suitor was because of advice he had given her or nonexistent feelings of love between them. Anora wasn't exactly a friend but she wasn't an enemy either, there was an unspoken understanding between them, she would let him act in a way that was best for the kingdom. He would have little to no allies in Tevinter, because of his renown amongst the Qunari and his campaign against their slave operations in Denerim and Amaranthine.

'Note to self, discover Tevinter influence in Kirkwall,' he thought to himself, Tevinter slavers were anywhere there was a city official ready to accept their blood money.

Since returning to Par Vollen Sten had spoken of only one person worth recognising in Ferelden, one Bas-Alitan worthy of the term Kadan and perhaps even Ashkaari. Daylen had helped Sten to recover his sword and forged a bond of friendship with him. Though Daylen didn't consider himself wise, the Qunari seemed to find his search for wisdom to be in line with the Qunari role of Ashkaari. It was no different than the view of some Andrastian's he had met. There was a growing minority of people whom believed that the maker had sent him to lead Ferelden through the blight, to save Amaranthine from the mother. Whilst Daylen didn't care for duty, he had no desire to become the idol to be used as Andraste was, for his story to become diluted for people to promote the existence of a false god. There was no god in Daylen's eyes, only the idea of god and what it drove others to do. He cast his eyes to the woman whom had been following him since Amaranthine, the one Bevin had pointed out before. She was good at sneaking around, but as she retreated towards the captain's cabin Daylen already began his own pursuit.

'Not yet Adaar,' he looked up and shook his head, a signal to his companion on the mast.

There was a warmth in the captain's cabin that Daylen knew wouldn't be found anywhere else on the ship. The captain was Orlesian and hired Ferelden sailors for cheaper labour. He didn't have an ounce of sailing experience so sat back and let his workers work, taking all of the comforts such as fire places, fine decorations on the walls and an even finer carpet that was being ruined by the dirt on Daylen's shoes and the water dripping off of his clothes. He looked at the trail left by his pursuit and narrowed his eyes at the steaming hot roast on the table.

"You've been following me since I left the keep, if you work for the wardens tell them what I told the first, I do not share their view of duty," he explained.

"So you aren't getting back up from the wardens? Too bad, our business still stands though, hero of the dog country," much to Daylen's shock it was a man who spoke, with a thick Orlesian accent.

The one who had been pursuing him was a woman. She was nowhere to be found however as four armed men walked out of hiding places, the shadows offered by the corners and the cupboards. Daylen looked lazily at the four Orlesian men, dressed in army more to impress than intimidate, with weapons however that were still practical. The leader, the one whom spoke was a young man with a finely cut beard and curly hair. He wore white armour with a frill collar and cuffs and a red shoulder coat. A rapier hung loosely off of his belt. His posture spoke levels of his confidence but also his status, he was part of the aristocracy though he had a mark on his nose, indicating he had taken his fair share of hits.

"Hero of Denerim, saviour of Redcliffe, vanquisher of the blight, Arl of Amaranthine, Warden-Commander of Ferelden and wanderer, you have many names warden, you've made many enemies," the man explained.

"You don't look like the son of a man or woman I've killed," Daylen retorted.

"Oh you haven't directly wronged me, but friends of yours have, you know Marjolaine correct?" the Orlesian asked.

"A bard master, a traitor to her country."

"Correct, though you forgot to mention lying whore and bitch, both words I could use to describe her. My family believed that she could provide us the means to reclaim the empire's fief, so we transported she and her bunch to Denerim during the game many years ago," the man explained the events that Daylen had heard before, from Leliana's lips.

Marjolaine had been Leliana's mentor, someone she was deeply in love with. But during their time in Ferelden Marjolaine tried to have Leliana take the fall for her crimes. Leliana escaped and found refuge in Lothering, becoming an initiate in the chantry. During the blight however, Marjolaine again sought Leliana out, revealing her betrayal had been performed out of fear that Leliana would betray her first. Daylen crossed his arms together, remaining stoic even as the three men behind him put their hands to their swords.

"We revealed the crimes committed by Marjolaine to both injured parties, in what way was your family punished for what she did?" Daylen asked.

"A supposedly merciful punishment, exile, allow me to introduce myself, I am Alain Benoit, once my family had a fleet of trade ships spread throughout Thedas, now because of our role in Marjolaine's activities we are divided, both by the winds and our differing values, when we had simply taken steps to insure that Ferelden would not attack us out of revenge for the occupation," the young man's frustration was clear to Daylen.

He was torn between the belief that Orlais deserved to rule Ferelden and the belief that they were wrong to. For some people there was a time in their life when they thought that the old ways were wrong.

"You were a friend of Loghain's and you have no love for the grey warden code of non-interference, what's to say you weren't planning with Loghain to attack our nation. I heard of the words he spoke at his final lands meet, how he intended to show the world Ferelden's strength, have you inherited his will?" Alain asked.

"I have inherited nothing from him, I am not here as a grey warden or a Ferelden, I am returning home," Daylen said.

"What do you mean?"

"I was originally from Kirkwall," Daylen shrugged his shoulders; at this point he didn't care whether the guards would attack.

"I see, so you are one of those Amells, so this is not a political meeting?" Alain asked.

"No it isn't," Daylen said as he walked past Alain towards the desk.

The guards began to draw their swords. Their employer however signalled them to stop and kept his arm raised as the masked man took a piece of parchment from the captain's desk and a quill. He dipped the sharp end in the ink, perfectly avoiding his hands and kept it raised over the ink container. When the ink had dried just enough Daylen began dragging the quill over the paper. He formed letter after letter, word after word, writing as well as he had been taught to during his time at the circle. His grandfather had focused on the blade and the horse, whilst his teachers had taught him the ways of books and the quill.

"You wish to serve your country Alain, to keep Ferelden from attacking Orlais, to keep the peace. I once heard it said that peace means fighting someone else's battles but this will not be the case here, Ferelden has valuable farmland, as do certain areas of Orlais, but even with the Blight Ferelden remains superior in its livestock," Daylen explained as he wrote out what he hoped would avoid conflict. "Amaranthine produces tons of food a month, but the trade is limited to nearby villages and the capital, the nobility pestered me about keeping what was left of the food for themselves, I wont have the people who are supposed to protect the land growing fat and complacent, give this letter to the warden commander at Vigil's keep, he'll see to it that your company becomes the one to transport the goods to Orlais," the former mage of the circle signed the document and gave it to Alain.

After curiously taking the document, Alain began reading it. Daylen watched the man's eyes trace every inch of the paper, searching for loopholes, anything that gave or robbed him an advantage. Though his men never kept their eyes off of Daylen, Alain himself continued reading and his expression began to soften. His expression alone told Daylen that he had hope of the contract succeeding, that he didn't want a fight in the first place. His armour and sword were all for show anyway, ceremonial weapons used for parties. Alain was probably the captain of the ship, too young to have any experience but just noble enough for his men to respect his command. The wardens and people of Amaranthine were sad to hear of Daylen's departure, because he had been unyielding, uncompromising, nice to them, all of the things his predecessor wasn't. Even Nathaniel Howe saw him as a friend and his sister Delilah even invited him to attend her child's welcoming into the Chantry. Daylen of course refused, he didn't believe in the maker, only the power of will.

"This is so well thought out, it could work, if it does I thank you warden," Alain said.

"We can only try, and I'll still be in Kirkwall by the time you find out whether it failed, I'm not a rich man Alain, I cant afford transport to another city beyond simply walking," Daylen explained.

"True, but you've built a reputation of being able to get anywhere through simply walking, the deeproads, Lothering to Redcliffe, the wilds, even the fade itself and if rumour is to be believed the resting place of Andraste," the Orlesian smiled for the first time.

"If rumour is to be believed," the mage muttered.

"Sheath your swords men, this man has proven his honour, you could have killed us all if you wanted to?" Alain asked.

"Yes," Daylen answered without hesitation.

Alain laughed and his men followed, perhaps more so out of a desire to please him than actually finding Daylen's power amusing.

"Please enjoy the rest of your journey warden, there will be a slight delay considering the storm," Alain said calmly.

"Thank you captain," Daylen bowed his head in respect, even if any other person would have said Alain wasn't deserving of it, to Daylen he was more reasonable than any other noble Daylen had met.

Alain walked out of the cabin, followed by the guards. Daylen looked at his surroundings for a moment. Alain had not been the one watching him, but whoever had been following since beginning his journey was obviously lighter on her feet. He had noticed his pursuers gender, unless it was a small framed person like Zevran. Choosing to ignore the paranoid feeling in his head, Daylen exited the cabin and entered the ferocious rainstorm that had consumed the ship. He heard the crack of thunder above him and hoped Adaar was all right on the crow's nest. Alain shouted futile orders to his crew, trying to get them to move the ship out of the storm when they were already in the storm; they could only endure and sail through it.

"The Maker, he's drawing us towards Kirkwall," he heard a sailor mutter, overcome by his fear.

"Why would the maker want anyone in Kirkwall?" Daylen half murmured.

Most went to Kirkwall because they were desperate for a new start. Some people in Thedas called it the land of opportunity. That was mostly why Bella, Wade and Herren were going with him. They saw in him a protector; any place that had him in it was safe in their eyes. Watching his companions leave the safety of the hold, Daylen only hoped he could prove worthy of their faith. He got out of the crew's way and looked over the side of the ship. The wreckage of other boats were batting against the side of the ship. A sharp whistle caught Daylen's attention to the helm, the sailor in charge of it was frantically waving his hand at the captain and Alain, pointing to the starboard side. Narrowing his eyes, Daylen brushed past several sailors as they looked towards the object that seemingly floated in the sky. He glanced towards it and hurried into a run towards his friends.

"INCOMING! BRACE YOURSELVES!" he yelled.

Daylen slid across the woodwork, grabbing Bevin and Bella. The object, a ball of fire slammed into the top of the ship, creating an explosion that threw men back and littered the ship with splinters. Wooden needles batted off of Daylen's back, whilst bigger chunks pierced the necks or went through the arms of those less fortunate.

"READY THE CROSSBOWS! PREPARE TO BE BORDED!" Alain drew his sword, his free hand was nursing a burn across the side of his face.

Harpoons latched onto the ship, both from the deck and the sails. The helmsman tried to control the direction of the boat, only for a mass of dust to strike him. He flailed away from the helm as the dust solidified, consuming him in shards of ice. The ship began a turn, only to strike another object. Daylen threw his arms down, keeping his companions firmly on the deck of the ship, others sadly fell off the side, crushed by the second ship that had arrived, or lost in the waves. The warden's eyes darkened as he looked at both sides, he could see the flash of metal and the surging of mana. Sailors and passengers were already either dead or too shocked to put up a fight, and still the attackers demanded blood. Men in white clothes and armour jumped onto the deck, cutting men down with their black short swords. The boy he had saved just moments ago was cut down by a long sword, wielded by only one soldier of many wearing a helmet with a face mask on.

"Tevinter slavers," Bevin identified the attackers, drawing on Daylen's teachings of armour make and weapons perfectly.

The men with the short swords were brutal, slitting the throats of people trying to crawl away. The slaver troops however cut through the weak first and began approaching the door to the hold, they just had to get through Daylen first. His hand immediately shot to his lance and moving as a blur to his opponents he cut one down after another. He wasted no time with fancy flourishes as Alain did, just brutal stabs through the gaps of armour, through the eye sockets of helmets. His lance glowed red with every thrust; he wasn't going to hold back for slavers, he never did. Daylen's show of skill gave some of the slavers a moment of pause. A spirit bolt shot forth from the ship to Daylen's right. He tilted his head back, letting it fly into the ship to his right. Both ends of his staff glowed and with a twirl he shot a fireball to his right, and a blast of ice to his left. The crew of one ship burned and the crew of the other were impaled by ice spikes.

"ALPHA! STAY WITH THEM!" Daylen yelled at his Mabari.

Alpha ripped the throat out of a slaver and barked, acknowledging his master's command. He ran close to Daylen's companions as the fifth jumped across the sails. Knives flew into the necks and limbs of the Tevinter soldiers, making them vulnerable enough for Daylen or another brave sailor to cut down. One sailor had Chasind tattoos on his face and wielded an axe, splitting open throats and knocking aside other enemies. Alain thrust his rapier into the eye of a slaver and then kicked him off of the boat. He drew a knife from his belt and began sawing at the harpoon rope.

"GET THE HARPOONS OFF THE SIDES!" he screamed.

Bevin drew the green blade and cut apart the first rope he saw.

"BEVIN!" Bella yelled as the boy ran across the side of the ship.

Daylen shoved his lance through two soldiers and grabbed one of the slavers, throwing him away from the cabin. He looked inside, only to see the throats of the captain and his first mate had been cut open. Bevin ducked, avoiding a stone fist and then rising to cut the rope. Daylen blocked two swords and countered with a slash, beheading two slavers. His ward was cutting the ropes, his sword was as sharp as Daylen remembered. Alain on the other hand was having a lot more trouble; he had only cut two ropes whilst Bevin had cut six. A knife suddenly flew into his back, piercing through his shoulder. He let out a pained yell, but he still tried to cut the rope. Daylen tried to track where the knife had come from, but his enemies were too many.

'That woman who followed me, she must have been a Tevinter infiltrator, sabotaging the ship, getting the guards drunk, telling Alain about me,' he knew he didn't have time to investigate further, but Alain was the only one who could give him answers.

Bevin stumbled back as a spirit bolt struck his sword. He raised the blade defensively as a Tevinter soldier attacked him. Daylen looked to Bevin and then Alain, the Orlesian was important but he had promised Bevin's sister he would take care of him. He shot a spirit bolt into the back of a soldier, knocking him away from Alain. Then he launched a stone fist, Bevin's attacker onto the other boat.

"ADAAR!" he yelled, he needed help.

Suddenly, his fifth companion jumped from the sails. Steel dragged through the flesh of the slavers. Bevin looked up at his saviour, a woman who was as tall as Daylen, much taller than any woman Bevin had seen before. She wore the armour of the famous knight Ser Isaac, minus the helmet. Her skin was tanned and her long hair was white. She held onto two double-sided daggers.

"Who else wants to die?" she snarled, her voice strong and to the point.

Two slavers ignored the hidden warning and attacked. Adaar sliced their throats open, kicking their swords out of their hands. As they flailed their arms about, slowly bleeding out the woman moved onto their friends. She stabbed one man throat the eye and kicked another towards the edge. Her daggers seemingly flew from her hands, imbedding themselves within the hearts of throats of her enemies. A wire then shot out of her gauntlet, sticking a man in the eyes. She yanked his body towards her, taking his sword and using it to behead a final opponent.

"DAYLEN!" she yelled.

She lit the fuse on a lyium bomb, strapping it to the dead man. Daylen impaled another soldier and then used his force magic to levitate Adaar's final opponent and throw him onto the second ship. He then gathered his mana again and threw a force blast, pushing the ship off course, the explosion took care of the rest. Dworkin made very effective bombs, Adaar stocked up on them before she and Daylen left Amaranthine. The Tevinter crew got a good taste of the suffering and hopelessness the merchants had received.

"Go to your caretakers," Adaar said to Bevin.

The rain batted furiously against Daylen's armour. He looked towards the remaining Tevinter ship on the right, the one pushing them towards Kirkwall. Most of the crew were dead and Alain was still trying to cut the rope. His skin as pale and sweat was beginning to gleam down his face. The Chasind man yanked him away from the side of the ship and raised his axe to cut the line. Suddenly, an electrical blast flew into the man, electrocuting him to the point that his skin melted. Bevin buried his face in the cloth of Bella's dress, he still hated the sight of dead flesh.

"Tevinter magisters," Adaar said.

Daylen raised his hand, signalling Adaar to stay back. He looked to his other companions, the ones who could fight.

"Hold onto one another," he said as he scanned his surroundings.

One side of the ship ruined, the entire crew dead, the passengers were possibly dead too. His suspicions were confirmed as men began coming out of the hold. Bella and the others backed away, clutching one another, getting as close to the side of the ship as they could without falling. Daylen kept his guard up as a young man swung off of the other ship, landing at the helm. He lifted off the hood of his black robe, revealing the confident face of an apprentice magister. Young, impulsive and driven to arrogance because of his great power.

"They said you were good, my name will go down in history as the man who killed the warden," the apprentice said.

There was no escape, he couldn't fight them off for long, especially since he had to protect people. He had only one option, the option Cailan had but was foolish enough not to take.

'Retreat,' he thought, remembering the rumble of the thunder at Ostagar.

He thrust his lance, releasing a blast of electricity above the apprentice. The storm spell bombarded the helm with bolts, electrocuting the overzealous apprentice, and the rain amplified it. The bolts grew in intensity, taking chunks off of the ship and frying anyone in the way. Daylen threw his arm to his side, pushing his companions off of the ship. He then ran off of the edge and jumped, taking Alain with him, with Adaar at his side. She threw another bomb from her poach, letting it consume the ship and their attackers.

* * *

Alpha had faced creatures stronger than him. He had faced the offspring of dragons, high dragons, and a high dragon with the intelligence and magic of a scary witch; and dwarf women turned into disgusting darkspawn mothers. But he always fought without fear, because he was a good dog. Even against the monster that was the rough ocean Alpha showed no fear. His fur soaked, the Mabari paddled strongly over the waves, barking for his master. He spotted the group in the difference, clinging to a plank. The master was nowhere in sight. Lightning flashed over their heads, threatening to spark the water. Alpha didn't understand the weather; he didn't understand a lot of things. What he did understand was that people were dead, and the nice red haired lady was screaming (she wasn't Leliana but she was still nice).

"BEVIN!" Bella screamed.

Master could look after himself and was a better swimmer than him. But the nice red haired lady was screaming the name of the boy the master was training. Alpha wouldn't let the boy die, he was always getting him extra meat from the camp fire, just like the nice man who replaced Alistair (Alpha always liked the older man, and felt sad for his dog dying). He barked as he took a dive and latched his teeth onto the straps on the boy's shirt. The weird one and his friend were grabbing bigger pieces of wood, trying to find something that would hold most of the group.

'Where is master?' Alpha wondered.

He swam over to the group as the nice red haired lady climbed onto the wooding planking. She took the boy from him, pulling him onto the plank. Alpha climbed onto the plank as well and whined, both for his master and the boy. The weird man and his friend held onto the edge of the makeshift boat and watched as the nice red haired girl began pushing the boy's chest. Alpha had seen the master teaching the lady that technique, he had used it on sailors whom had been in the water before. The master was smart, he had taught the nice lady well for the technique was successful; the boy coughed and spat the water in his mouth out.

"Where are Daylen and Adaar?" the weird man's friend asked.

"The waves must have knocked them away from us, maker I hope they are safe," the lady said.

"Ruff! Ruff!" Alpha offered two encouraging barks, his master was not weak; he would survive no matter what was thrown at him.

Until then he would continue to keep his master's companions safe, because he was a good dog.

* * *

Daylen continued to stroke furiously against the waves. Whilst trying to keep Alain's head above water. If Leliana was right and there really was a Maker, the storm must have been Daylen's penance for a life of scepticism. He found a piece of a mast, probably from the ship Adaar had destroyed. Taking a hold of the wood, Daylen hefted Alain's arms over the log and began kicking, swimming over waves. He spotted a tuft of white hair in the water; Adaar soon afterwards came up for air. She swam towards the log and began helping to swim towards Kirkwall.

"Where in Kirkwall will we land?" she asked.

"If memory serves we'll hit a few metres off the wounded coast, if the others are as smart as I hope then they'll swim to the same spot, we've gotten through the worst of the storm and the fires from that explosion will keep them distracted," Daylen explained.

"The worst is over then," Adaar said.

"No, we still have more problems, the wounded coast is a gathering place for scavengers and there will probably be many opportunists waiting after that Qunari skirmish."

"Yes, the Qunari won't have the best reaction to me, you on the other hand Ashkaari," she spoke the words with a hint of venom.

"We need to keep Alain alive too, find out what he knows, that woman who had been following us, she's the one who told Alain who I am," Daylen explained.

"Then you should try to find a settlement, I'll look into the Qunari activities, if they catch me, I'll blend in," Adaar chuckled.

"Stay safe," Daylen let out a sigh of relief as they hit a calm bit of water.

"Good luck," Adaar returned the gesture in her own way, before she began swimming towards the rocky parts of the beach.

Daylen kept a hold of his lance as he hefted Alain over his shoulder. He made sure the man was still breathing (just barely) before walking up the beach. Having studied a map of the free marches before hand he began plotting out a destination. If his memory served him well he would go to a village called Wrenwith.

* * *

Bella helped Bevin walk up the beach. The boy was brave but he hardly had the body of a warrior yet. Wade and Herren followed behind, both near exhaustion. They let out disgusting yells as Alpha shook the water off of his fur, drenching the pair. Bevin had recovered enough to laugh at their expense. Bella rang the skirt of her dress, letting the waterfall onto the sand. She looked around and saw the wreckage of ships, some from merchant vessels; she even spotted a piece of the Qunari dreadnought. Thankfully there were no dead bodies; she didn't want Bevin seeing them even if Daylen was training him. For as stern as he was Daylen hadn't the heart to beat the harshness of the world into Bevin, or to remind him of just how vicious people could be. Bella didn't mind it so much, his hope and optimism was what she loved about him.

"Cursed Tevinter," Herren growled, checking his coin purse to make sure he hadn't dropped any gold.

"Maker I'm starting to miss Amaranthine, its so hot here," Wade said.

"Its typically hot in the free marches, even winters can be quite warm," Bevin said.

He held onto his sword tightly, with his master gone he knew he had to step up and protect his companions. Whilst Bevin had faith that Daylen was alive and would find them, he knew in the mean time they had to rely on themselves. Bella put on a brave smile, but he knew she was concerned for the warden. Bevin followed him because he knew he could train him to become as good a hero as he was. He knew that through following Daylen he could learn first hand the courage that had driven him the day Redcliffe was attacked. Wade and Herren followed him because he had a habit of discovering rare materials and putting them to good use, Wade would make a name for himself forging the items from those materials and Herren would make a profit from the publicity. Bella however followed because Kirkwall was a good place to get a fresh start, or so she said. Bevin knew better, she was in love with Daylen. Whether his teacher knew or accepted that Bevin didn't know, he has lost that light he had when he first came to Redcliffe, it had been wrapped in darkness ever since the battle of Denerim. Occasionally though Bevin could see the light break through, he knew that despite everything Daylen had been through, he was still a hero.

"What should we do?" Wade asked Bella.

"Get off the beach and onto a main road, thieves wont waste their time with four peasant travellers and a Mabari, and if we come across a caravan we'll be able to request passage and escort to Kirkwall," Bevin however gave the orders.

Bella nodded and again smiled, this time however Bevin could tell it was genuine. They had reached the Free Marches at least.

* * *

He stood at the stern of his ship, his green eyes glaring at the distant city of Kirkwall. His other crewmembers regarded him with fear and dared not to approach him. They dared not break him away from the deep meditation of his mind. Hatred was his euphoria; the bodies floating in the river were the incense of a candle to him. Nothing soothed him more than burying himself in all the negativity that had consumed him, his desire to destroy his enemies, to claim honour through victory and to see his dream of Kirkwall burning come to fruition. With his face shrouded by his hood he turned to the only one who wouldn't fear him. She swayed her hips slightly as she walked; her own hood concealed her face.

"You see, he was definitely on there," she said.

"Yes, yes, you were right, consider your place earned, but the Amell still got away," he snarled.

"Don't worry, I have a plan to deal with him."

"Destroy him completely," he said.

"Patience, you've waited years to strike at Kirkwall, a few more years wont matter, you just have to plant the seeds of the city's destruction," she explained.

"Do not lecture me on warfare, I know what is needed, ruthlessness, might, deception and I will use these things, but also opportunity, the presence of the Qunari was unexpected but it may be exactly what we hoped for. Go with the ship back to Minrathos, then get your contact in Par Vollen, tell him the time has come for him to choose his path," he explained.

"What about you?" she asked.

"There are those within Kirkwall whom seek power, or the Maker, or the fulfilment of their dreams, they are easy to manipulate. Alls I have to do is find a mage with the right drive and enough hatred for the way this world is, a sister who hates the Qunari enough and an army to take what's left after the chaos they have created is gone."

"Then you'll have everything you wanted Magister Threnhold," his spy and lover smiled as she pulled off his hood, revealing his black hair and the red marks underneath his eyes.

"Dumar whom replaced us, the templars and Chantry that opposed us and the Amells who refused us will all burn!"

Next Chapter 5: Dangerous things

* * *

That's right the fifth companion is the Inquisitor, yet not the Inquisitor too, the popular female Qunari. I wanted to use a character that would have a loose connection to the Qunari, but not be someone with Tallis's reputation or someone as bland (at least in interaction) as Sten, Adaar is a Vashoth, someone born outside of the Qun but she does appreciate some of their ways.

Her role within the story as well as being something of a badass is also to show Hawke's companions another side of the Qun and the Kossith (though unlike the upcoming game, Adaar doesn't have horns), Sten painted something of a good picture for the Qun, he gave you reason behind the brutality, Tallis was a loyalist, she could see the bad points of the Qun but it didn't make her believe in it any less. Adaar takes aspects of both examples and turns them around, she's not loyal to the Qun, she doesn't take value in following a code to the letter, she's kind of like the modern day worshipper in Thedas, she takes aspects of a religion (in this case the Qun) that are open to her own interpretation, because religion is part faith and part interpretation. Like Sten she understands the reasoning but says that it needs to improve, which is where she differs from Tallis whom doesn't express a need for improvement or change.

Anyway next time we go into events mentioned in Dragon Age Redemption (but please keep in mind that I'm not going to actually incorporate the events of that series, it'll be non-canon for this universe and you'll see why) as Daylen witnesses why mages should be feared and proves why they deserve independence.

And despite my initial disappointment with Dragon Age Inquisitions delay I'm kind of hopeful they'll use this time to sort out any bugs and make improvements :)


	6. Chapter 5: Dangerous things

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age

Haven't updated this, due to playing Dragon Age Inquisition (good despite being a bit buggy) and planning for other fics. Hope everyone enjoys the chapter, the Cairn seen in this chapter is a heavily altered version of the Dragon Age Redemption character. The opening scene for this chapter might be lemony, though I'm trying to make it as tasteful as possible and I don't see why someone should give people warnings when they've clicked on a fic RATED M! Lol

* * *

Rise of the Hawk's: Reunion

Chapter 5: Dangerous things

"You have surpassed that circle slave I met in the wilds, you have become a true survivor, the only one whom can defeat the Archdemon. Tomorrow we go to Denerim, where they will accept your command or else they will all die!"

That day, covered by their tent, fire illuminating their bodies, Daylen saw something in Morrigan's eyes he hadn't seen before. It was the flicker of feelings she denied, feelings she called weakness. He lost himself to those feelings, the hope that over the course of their journey the witch had fallen in love with him. Morrigan pulled his lips to hers, kissing them softly at first, like one would nibble to taste food. As if responding to an unspoken order Daylen opened his mouth and accepted Morrigan's predatory kiss. She gripped his mouth with hers, her tongue ran along his jaw. His eyes remained open, as did hers and with a shocked expression Daylen saw the smile on Morrigan's face as she ended the kiss. It was the smile of a hunter whom had claimed her prize. Pushing him back against the ground with her left hand, she went through the process of removing their clothes. As she tugged at his pants she also pulled his face up to her neck. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh of pleasure as he kissed and sucked at her skin. He lowered the robes on her shoulders and ran his hands across her back. She didn't have any scars, her skin was perfect despite being a child of the wilds Daylen gasped as her hips connected with his.

"Morrigan, we can't do this," Daylen said as he rolled her onto her back.

She locked her legs around his waist and pulled him down until their chests were touching. Then she captured his lips, dragging her nails against the skin on his back.

"You have wanted this, since the moment you met me in the wilds," Morrigan said.

"No, I didn't, I…want you now but…" he hesitated, even as Morrigan began to thrust her hips.

"Then what foolishness is holding you back?" the witch asked.

Daylen closed his eyes and kissed the woman. Morrigan smiled as her lover kissed her lips, her neck and her breasts. She rolled until Daylen was on his back and continued swaying on him, pulling her head back, her necklaces dangling as Daylen's moans echoed through the tent.

* * *

Looking back on that moment, his first time with a woman, Daylen came to the conclusion that he had been reckless. That night hadn't been the last night he and Morrigan spent together. Over the course of their stay in Denerim Daylen would go to Morrigan's room, or follow her out of the city during the night. With reckless abandon he would make love to her, sometimes responding to her calls, sometimes instigating it himself. But he knew one thing, that loving Morrigan was dangerous. He refused to go into a dangerous situation without knowing that he had control, that there were advantages he could utilise. The sole exception was when he had to save a life, his duty was to protect the innocent, it was the duty he had chosen for himself not on the terms the grey wardens had set but his own. He refused to go to Weisshaupt or become a diplomat for the wardens because it would make them a political force, something Duncan told him the warden's weren't. But for all their talk of neutrality during conflicts and 'fighting only the darkspawn' they were held down by politics. The Orlesian Wardens would only go to Ostagar if they were accompanied by Chevaliers, Ostagar was lost because of Cailan's hope for a resolution with Orlais. Anora was less like Cailan or her father, her simple request to Orlais was for them to stay out of Ferelden, to not bring their game to her borders. It wasn't quite a peace but it worked, Ferelden was independent as it wasn't indebted to any other nation for its economy, even the chantry had little pull in affairs of state, Anora would appreciate the wisdom of priests but not them believing they could decide whom among her people deserved more food. Trade flowed through and from Amaranthine, which served as the first land under the control of the wardens. Alienage elves in Denerim had more rights that any across Thedas, a new tower had been built and mages assisted the military, doctors in the cities and even helped on farms. Not only was Ferelden its own nation again but it was serving as the starting point for the dalish to have their own land. Many still clung to the old ways, but Lanaya was proving to be an avid negotiator and it was only her presence that prevented any conflicts between the elves and the people living in the areas surrounding Ostagar.

'I left that behind for this,' Daylen smiled in amusement at his fortunes.

Wearing only the bottom layer of his armour, Daylen dragged a stretcher he had made from bits of wood and his chest plate. His arms were exposed, including some of the numerous scars he got during the blight and his tours before Amaranthine. He wore a sleeveless black top with a hood attached to hide his face and shield his eyes from the sun. So far his walk across the marches had gone unhindered, he would occasionally pass by Qunari soldiers cut off from their squads and search parties, but he made no sign of being a threat to them so they left him alone. The warden looked back at his charge, Alain had passed out from pain but the bleeding was stopped for now. Daylen knew however that if the man didn't receive professional aid then he would die from infection. The best he could do was get him to Wrenwith as quickly as he could.

Despite his amusement with his situation however, Daylen had no regrets. He would rather drag a wounded man to safety and help strangers on the road than navigate the Orlesian court or rule over the lands of Amaranthine. To some power was the means and end, Daylen preferred using power to help everyone and not himself. Though Daylen had learnt of the etiquette of the noble parties and balls, he had no taste for them. On a short trip to Orlais to help Leliana expose her former patrons crimes Daylen had almost been thrown out of the court for refusing to act as those whom played the game were supposed to, in fact he disregarded the game entirely.

'Are you the same Alain? Is that why you sailed with the common working man?' Daylen looked at the younger man curiously.

As he began reaching greenery and grey stone Daylen removed the map and checked that he was on the right path. Even before his lessons with Loghain Daylen had always been interested in geography, outside of his magic it had been one of the areas he excelled in, that and history. He looked at the road ahead, seeing a small group of men heading towards him. They looked like a hard working lot, hands dry and cut, their hair (those who weren't bald) scruffy and beards dirty. There was no uniform or neatness to their clothes, but they weren't ruined either. Six of them carried stacks of sacks, some of which looked like they had been knitted together from bits of shabby cloth.

"Greetings young man, I see scavenging has gone well," the leader said, bringing the group to a halt a few paces from Daylen.

"No it hasn't at all, probably because I haven't been scavenging," Daylen smiled.

"By the maker, are you a survivor?" one of the men asked.

"Fuck, it looked like the maker himself was waging war with those horned beasts out there," said another.

"The Qunari you mean?" Daylen asked.

"We don't know any other lot with horns out here, a whole lot of them turned up at the gates requesting entry, with those hands on their swords," a third man spat in anger.

"I wonder if the Viscount would be so eager to negotiate with them if he knew they had attacked trade ships."

"No, it wasn't the Qunari, they were chasing someone but they didn't care about the transport ships," Daylen explained, correcting the leader of the group.

"I don't think it particularly matters friend, things are tough enough in Kirkwall already," the man said.

"Yeah, we have Ferelden's free loading off of us."

"Watch your fucking mouth, have you listened to this man at all?" the leader looked at the man who spoke firmly.

Most said that Daylen had a bland accent, no one could tell he was a born free marcher as most assumed from his voice that he was Ferelden, which wasn't an unreasonable viewpoint.

"It's all right, haven't the refugees been given transport home or citizenship rights?" Daylen asked.

"That would entail the Viscount doing something smart, which has been rare lately," the only grey haired man of the group said.

"He's been wasting our maker damned taxes on decorations to the chantry and fucking shelters for the refugees. Don't get me wrong, I feel for the dogs I and it is important to remember all those lost from that fucking blight, but the Viscount and the Chantry aren't providing permanent solutions..."

"All right that's enough, we've wasted enough of this good man's time, I wish we could help you more stranger but we barely have enough coin to pay for food on our plates, we need to get to the beach and see what we can find, Wrenwith is a few more leagues the way we came you haven't got far to go," the leader explained.

"Thank you, try to stay out of the way of the Qunari, they won't bother you if you don't bother them," Daylen said.

The older man nodded his thanks and ushered the group on. Daylen continued his stride, finding value in what he just witnessed. Some would've considered it a waste of time, but Daylen found value in acts of kindness, the men gave to him the only help he needed and their complaints about the situation with the refugees spoke volumes about the way the city of chains was governed. The people weren't happy and the Viscount was doing more to temporarily appease outsiders instead of finding permanent solutions to conflicts that benefited all parties. Some would've chastised him for letting them go, but Daylen had no problem with people taking abandoned and unwanted goods if it meant they were able to get through the week. He saw two kinds of thieves in the world, thieves of greed who would murder and enslave for a lavish lifestyle they didn't need and thieves of necessity, people using the only opportunities they had to provide for their families. Sometimes the latter kind of thief could have more integrity and honour than a noble or even a chantry priest. The mere act of them salvaging stuff from a wrecked ship and dead bodies was also proof of just how desperate the people of Kirkwall were.

"Better keep your gold hidden Alain, hoping for no trouble may not be enough," Daylen said as he continued onwards.

* * *

His companions had walked for just as long as he had. Bevin always kept a tight grip on his sword, but they were fortunate enough to not run into any bandits. If there were any they were more focused on targets that looked like they had more to take. Bella patted Alpha's head, the Mabari was loyal to his master and by extension his companions, he was as much a bodyguard as Bevin tried to be. The group had been walking across the Wounded Coast for a few hours, savouring what water they had and avoiding both Qunari scouts and people from the city going to the beach to scavenge.

"Goodness gracious, when are we going to run into a city guard patrol, they do patrol these areas right?" Wade asked.

"You'd think they would, but when I visited my sister in Redcliffe I learnt that there's some dissatisfaction with Kirkwall's Viscount, or at least he isn't very well thought of," Bevin said.

Bella nodded her head in agreement, Bevin wasn't as knowledgeable about politics as his teacher but he had a source when it came to life amongst the nobles. His sister had begun serving Bann Teagan and if her letters were any indication was quite taken with the lord. Bella smiled at her friend's happiness, all of Fereldan was enjoying a stable peace and beginning a slow recovery from the blight. Kirkwall hadn't even been touched by the blight but the land itself looked ill, there was fewer greenery and every hour Bella could see only one or two herbs. The Hinterlands was a finely maintained and sown crop of wild herbs in comparison to the near barren lands surrounding Kirkwall.

"We once served the queen, we made some formal armour for her negotiations with Orlais..."

"A hideous piece, she wanted it done too quickly."

"Quiet Wade, one of the lords referred to Dumas as a...dumbass in the ways of leadership, I think he was Celene's cousin I'm not sure. He offered quite a hefty sum for us to make armour for Chevaliers, but we were under contract with Anora," Herren explained.

"A pity, I could have improved their armour immensely, Orlesian's and their fanciful helmets, I could've made the faces on those visors so much better to look at."

"Wade you are a blacksmith not an artist."

"Art comes in many varieties Herren," Wade huffed as he turned away.

The blacksmiths eyes lit up and he turned to his companions. All three raised their eyebrows in confusion as the man jumped about, pointing in the direction he had previously been looking. When Alpha started barking, the group began to realise what Herren had seen. A group of men were approaching, some armoured though most were not. At least four of the men caught Bella's eyes and Alpha's judging from his growling. They wore white armour with red robes, Bella's eyes were drawn to the flaming sword pattern on their chest plates and belts.

"Templars," Bevin gasped.

"It's all right, they're just minding their own business, remember what Daylen told us," Bella said.

Daylen had told them that not all Templars were cruel or had phobias of magic. Some were simply doing a job, good men serving for good reasons or to support a family. Bella moved ahead of the group, with Alpha close beside her. Upon seeing her the mostly male party were instantly drawn to her for one reason or another.

"Excuse me young lady, are you all right?" one of the men asked.

"My friends and I were in the wreckage of the storm, our trading ship was attacked," she explained.

"By the Maker, so there were survivors, are you injured at all? I mean do you have any injured with you?" another man asked, trying to divert his interest in Bella.

"No, but we lost contact with a friend of ours, do you know where the nearest village or settlement is?" Bella asked.

"Wrenwith," one of the templars spoke, moving away from his fellows so her could look at Bella's group.

He was a few years older than Daylen, and his eyes didn't hold much experience. Though he carried himself with a caution and awareness most Templars were expected to have. The young man was handsome in his own way, a small scratch was on his eyebrow and his brown hair curled in some places, his beard was trimmed and well groomed. Bella bowed her head slightly and gestured to her group.

"My friends and I were trying to get to Kirkwall, but then the storm happened," Bella said.

"Were you caught in the battle with the Qunari?" the templar asked.

"No, we think they were slavers, Tevinter I think though I only say that because there were one or two mages with them," Bevin explained.

"Most mercenary companies around the marches have one mage or more, raiders are the same despite the order's efforts, what business do you have in Kirkwall?"

"Cairn the poor girl and her friends have been through a lot," one of the other templars spoke, his accent indicated he was from Starkhaven.

"Vigilance Ser Kingsley that is a demand of the order, besides I'm only getting the questions out of the way, they're far more delicate than the brutes in Kirkwall," Cairn explained.

"Can you help us get to Wrenwith?" Bella asked.

"Aye, we were on our way there anyway," the older templar said.

Cairn took a moment, no doubt looking at Bella's companions to see if there was any signs of them being mages. It took longer than most would've taken, and Bella found it more discomforting than the feel of the other men's eyes on her. The templar nodded his head and continued leading his group on. Bevin walked close to Bella as the other men offered her blankets. Ones hand lingered a bit too close to her hips, but a short growl from Alpha drew him off. Bella wrapped the blanket around her and offered the other to Bevin.

"Let Harren or Wade have one," he said.

"They're already sharing," Bella smiled, pointing at the blacksmiths.

Both men were huddled together, holding their single blanket tightly. In truth Bella wasn't sure whether they were actually sharing or playing a discreet game of tug of war. Bevin wrapped the blanket across his shoulders, his grip on his blade finally loosened.

'I hope you are doing as well as we are Daylen,' Bella thought of their leader, as she often did.

* * *

When Daylen hit the borders of the small village he finally dropped onto his arse. He used the cloth from Alain's cloak as a makeshift hanky to wipe the sweat off of his brow. His arrival hadn't gone unnoticed, an old couple bought up a bucket from the well, once they finished the wife took a ladle and walked over to Daylen. He bowed his head in thanks and took a few sips, then took the ladle and tipped some of the water down Alain's throat.

"Thank you," the young man said, wiping the sweat off again. "Is there a physician here, I need to see him quickly!"

"Yes, but you certainly can't drag that poor boy the rest of the way, JOHN GET OFF YOUR ASS AND GET KENNETH AND PAUL!" the woman yelled.

"What about the water?"

"I can carry a bucket, get those two strong lads and help them lift this stretcher."

Daylen smiled as the old man began running to one of the other houses. Wrenwith was small, most of the houses were made from logs and hay. There were several patches when men and woman were growing vegetables and a single cart for trade. The old man emerged from the stable, leading more than who his wife asked for. Daylen continued to help the villagers, seeing his charge through to the doctor's house. An older man emerged from the house, cleaning his hands with a bloodied cloth he quickly threw into the nearby fire.

"We were hoping more people would come, from the wrecked ships right?" the man asked.

"Yes, now please hurry this man was stabbed by raiders," Daylen said.

The doctor nodded his head, urging the other men to bring Alain into his house. Daylen stepped inside and was one of the few men not to gag at the smell. The house was nice enough but the doctor did all of his work inside, two others were sitting at a table, waiting for the splints on their arms to be treated.

"How many people have been coming here?" Daylen asked.

"Two or three a day, we had a group of Antivans come here a few hours ago, their ship hadn't been wrecked but they needed supplies for a trip to Kirkwall," the doctor explained.

Daylen grabbed Alain's legs and helped one of the stable boys heft Alain onto a table. The physician rolled up his sleeves and began cutting and ripping away Alain's armour. Those who hadn't seen a stab wound before turned away from it.

"Good dressing, I'll disinfect the wound and begin treating his fever, I'll need two at the least to stay here and hold him down for the real painful part, not you young man," the doctor shook his head as Daylen volunteered himself. "You've done enough, my wife has a pot set outside so start filling your belly up, doctor's orders!"

Daylen nodded his head in thanks and began walking towards the door.

"When he's woken up I'll tell him you saved his life," the doctor said, causing Daylen to pause before he left.

The warden sighed in relief, he trusted the doctor's optimism, the man kept his office and carried himself well enough to show signs of competency. Daylen sat by the fire as the woman there stirred the pot that had been set over it. She ladled a brown liquid filled with bits of meat and potatoes into a wooden bowl and offered it to the young man.

"Thank you, you've done well here, I'm glad I came to Wrenwith instead of Kirkwall," Daylen said.

"Aye laddy, Wrenwith is pretty much the gateway to Kirkwall from any free city though we don't get many nobles coming here, we only have the one brother here who keeps us in touch with the chantry. Not that we'd be able to get in anyway," the woman muttered the last bit under her breath.

"What do you mean?" Daylen asked.

"I can tell you're Ferelden, Kirkwall works a bit differently compared to the Chantrys over there, we don't have chantrys in the surrounding villages, if you want to listen to the chant or pray to the maker you have to go into Kirkwall, then you have to walk into the noble district and commoners are tolerated there at best. Kirkwall is a city for nobles, mages and thieves, not honest working folk," the woman explained.

"I'm sure the people who live there would disagree," Daylen said, a bit too harshly than he hoped.

But the woman took no offence and gave Daylen a spoon.

"I'm sorry lad, I'm sure there are good people over in Kirkwall but city folk don't have the advantage of being honest to make their living. That comes from experience," she smiled, wiping her hand with a cloth and then offering it to Daylen. "Katrina Morden, formerly Katrina Crown of Starkhaven, which is just as worse as Kirkwall, a little more tolerant considering the accents," she smirked as Daylen chuckled.

"Thank you again," he said.

"No problem lad, we have too many people in the world helping only for gold, a little charity can make people's lives much easier, I hope the stew isn't too bad."

"I've had worse, you need to savour what you grow for the seasons ahead," Daylen said.

"Indeed, for all the devastation that storm brought on the ports the rain clouds have helped the crops, we should be getting back to normal soon, just as soon as we have that Qunari out of here," Katrina explained.

Daylen looked at the woman, curious over her last statement. "A Qunari, there's a Qunari in the village?" he asked.

"I don't know if you could call him that now, he said he was leaving the Qun or so I've heard, the mayor has been giving all the best food and treatment to him, probably hoping the chantry can learn something about the Qun from him," Katrina gestured to the stables.

"Thank you for the stew, it was delicious," Daylen said before he got up.

He began walking to the stables before a girl ran into him.

"Sorry," he said.

The girl ignored him and ran up to the village hall. Daylen continued on towards the stable, stopping at the doorway, two men stood over a horned man sitting on a stool. He had a small table in front of him and was eating a steak with finely cut veg. The Kossith appeared to be enjoying it, something that was frowned upon in the Qun. In fact accepting help in general was frowned upon, dependent on the role. He was wasn't big like the other members of the Antaam, which meant he wasn't part of the Antaam. Daylen slowly turned away, unsure over whether he wanted to stay and watch the man or leave him be. He understood the Vashoth desire to get away from the Qun, as well as a mages desire to remain anonymous. But he couldn't shake away his suspicions or his instincts. He walked to the village hall, stopping as the mayor and a chantry brother stepped out. Daylen awkwardly rubbed the back of his head as he stood in their way.

"Can I help you refugee?" the mayor asked.

"No need for rudeness Kaylan, is there something you need young man?" the brother asked.

"I survived the recent storm, I couldn't help but notice the Qunari you had recovered," Daylen said.

"Ah yes, the poor creature was found wounded on the coast, our hunters recovered him and we've been caring for him ever since, the things he's told us about the Qun are enlightening, I'm sure the Grand Cleric will want to hear of it in Kirkwall once the maker's agents arrive to take him into custody," the brother explained.

"You have templars coming here? Good, I have reason to believe that he is a mage," Daylen said.

"Good, he can tell the chantry more about Qunari magic then, thank you for your concern my son but I'm afraid this is a chantry affair," the brother walked away with the mayor following close behind.

Daylen ran a hand through his hair, tapping his foot against the ground impatiently. He wondered whether he should get involved, if it was necessary for him to get involved. The young man walked over to his makeshift trailer and put the pieces of armour in his bag. He picked up his lance and carried it, along with the bag towards the stable. The young man dropped his bag as he heard a scream come from the stable. He rushed into the stables and widened his eyes at what he saw. The Qunari had stabbed the Chantry brother in the neck, and that very same brother's blood was swirling above him.

"GET AWAY FROM THERE NOW!" Daylen yelled.

He ran forward as the Saarebas's eyes glowed red. Blood fuelled his power, enabling him to set the stables alight.

"GO NOW!" Daylen yelled again, pushing the men to the exit.

He grabbed the Chantry brother by his foot and began dragging him out of the stable. The Saarebas seemed to disappear into the flames that the blood had formed from. Once he was outside Daylen then turned to the men he rescued, they were already running away. He cursed, tightening his grip on his lance. Flames suddenly burst out of the roof of the building, crashing into the small house opposite. A few brave men and women gathered around the house, swatting the bits of flame with wet clothes and splashing troths of water onto it. The Saarebas emerged from the flames, bits of wood floating around him. He launched them into the crowd like arrows. His aim was poor though and Daylen intercepting one that would've been a fatal hit, his lance clattered to the ground and the Saarebas grinned.

"ALL OF YOU GET AWAY FROM THERE NOW!" the Warden yelled as he ran into the house.

The Saarebas grinned, already losing himself to the freedom before him. He was Saarebas, a dangerous thing and a Tal-Vashoth, he no longer answered to anyone's will but his own. Many Qunari who were away from authority figures or away from the Qun would lose their faith in it and become Tal-Vashoth, but many would also lose themselves to blood lust and become bandits. There were a few who managed to function outside of the Qun, like Adaar's parents. The Saarebas however wanted nothing more than to rule over others, to use his power as his instincts dictated.

'My plans are just beginning,' he thought, aiming the palms of his hands at the other villagers.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the burning house, leaving a trail of ice behind him and carrying the mother and her child. The Saarebas turned to Daylen in horror.

"People like you are the reason mages are feared," Daylen said as his force field faded.

The Saarebas yelled and threw his hand forward, releasing streaks of lightning. Daylen intercepted them with lightning from his hand. A cold mist swept over Daylen's right arm as the Saarebas directed the flames from the barn towards him. The flames struck Daylen, but turned into steam, Daylen's winter grasp countered had worked. With a roar of rage, the Saarebas pulled off pieces of the stable and threw them at Daylen and his charges. Daylen slammed his hands together, creating energy fields that surrounded the people he was protecting. He then broke off into a run, dodging the wooden spikes the Saarebas threw at him. With a kick Daylen drew his lance into his hand and continued running at his target. He thrust the lance forward, tearing the Saarebas's left cheek open. The Saarebas ran back, throwing fireballs at the villagers nearby. Daylen however shot shards of ice magic from his lance, intercepting the fire. The villagers watched the mages stare one another down, one with complete confidence, the other with terror.

"People like me are the reason that will change," Daylen growled, running his finger across the blade of his lance.

All in the crowd grew silent as the blade of the lance shined and sparked with electricity. The Saarebas ran fire across his nails and swung his arms at Daylen. No one in the crowd was a soldier, so the swing of Daylen's lance was too fast for them, but the results were clear. Two hands dropped to the floor and one man screamed in agony.

"You've killed two people today Tal-Vashoth, no one else dies, except for you depending on what punishment is deemed necessary," Daylen said.

The Saarebas fell to his knees, looking at his stumps in shock.

"No collar, no mask and your mouth was left open, you must have been a really good mage once, obedient, not very focused in your studies, just enough for control, but not enough to overcome limits, not enough for the Qun to demand that binding you be necessary. Except they made a mistake didn't they, your magic is weak but you dabbled in arts punishable by death in the Qun...blood magic, and not for the sake of healing but to kill, to fuel already dangerous abilities," Daylen explained.

He stabbed his lance into the ground and walked to his bag. The Saarebas tried to grab the lance with his mouth, but the static shocks threw him away. Daylen began putting on his armour, including his helmet. He kept his visor up however, walking towards the child and mother he had saved.

"Are you both all right?" he asked.

The child nodded her head and her mother wrapped her arm across Daylen.

"Thank you, thank you so much, I thought my husband was right that mages are something to be feared, but you saved us...you saved us," the woman said.

"He is a templar right?" Daylen asked.

"Yes!"

"Tell him to wait for me, I won't be gone long," Daylen said.

"But he'll arrest you," the girl said.

"He has to arrest someone today," Daylen chuckled as he stood up.

He walked back over to the Saarebas, grabbing his lance and covering his face with his visor.

"You however...I'm not an executioner and the chantry will only anger the Qunari if they decide your fate, so I'm taking you back where you belong," Daylen said, his eyes let out a red glow that terrified the Saarebas.

Daylen grabbed the Saarebas by his horns and began pushing and dragging him out of the village. No one dared question where he was taking the dangerous thing, he had saved their village after all.

* * *

Bella saw the change in Cairn's eyes as they got closer to the village. They could see smoke from fires in the distant. As the group got closer and closer to the village, Cairn's worry turned to dread and he broke off into a run.

"RHEA!" he yelled.

Bevin gripped the handle of his sword, Bella however gripped his shoulder and shook her head. He was not to fight unless he had Daylen to back him up. Alpha had picked up his master's scent and was barking to confirm it with Bella. Herren took Wade to help the other villagers. The stables were burned down, as was a small house opposite it. All of the villagers seemed silent however, perhaps they considered themselves fortunate to be alive. That or they felt no real sympathy for the chantry brother and the finely dressed man laid out beside him. Bella felt the urge to push Bevin away from the scene, but remembered that they had both seen worse. Bevin was still a child, but he had matured under Daylen's tutelage, he wasn't the boy hiding in a wardrobe anymore.

"This was teacher's work," Bevin said, gesturing to the two Qunari hands.

"What happened here?" the templar Kingsley demanded.

He took on a different tone than the kind hearted man Bella had met on the road.

"It was that Qunari, he stabbed the priest in the throat and then set the master on fire, he nearly burned the whole village down," the doctor's wife said.

"Yeah, we've always been telling the Viscount and the clerics that we need guards here, but they never listen," said a stable worker.

"We wanted to help the Qunari and then send him on his way, but then the mayor and that chantry brother say he's a 'political guest' who nearly fucking burned down our homes," another villager growled.

"If this village was so helpless how did it survive?" Kingsley asked.

"That survivor from the storm, the one who carried that wounded man in the doctor's house, we all saw him, while the mayor's hired muscle ran away he rushed into Cairn's house and got his family out, then he chopped the Qunari's hands off, it was incredible," one of the younger villagers explained.

"He saved us Daddy," the girl said.

"Is this true?" Cairn asked.

"Rhea would be dead if not for that man," the woman said.

"Maker, but, how did she survive the flames?"

Bella saw the woman whisper something into Cairn's ear, it was enough to shock Cairn, but Kingsley didn't notice.

"What about the Qunari, where's the body?" Kingsley asked.

"The stranger took the Qunari, dragged him kicking and screaming to the coast," the doctor said.

"Take me to this wounded man the stranger bought in, I want to know who this man is," Kingsley said.

"This man saved our lives."

"And killed a valuable political prisoner, and his survival too, no ordinary warrior could kill a blood mage, so take me to the prisoner. Cairn you stay here and watch the villagers, I want everyone questioned."

The doctor ignored the templar and got back into his house. Kingsley followed after him, leaving the group to begin their investigation. Bella nodded to Wade and Herren and the four (plus Mabari) companions walked around the stables, intending to talk away from prying eyes.

"Okay, this seems bad," Wade said.

"Understatement of the age Wade," Herren said.

"Both of you calm down, Daylen wouldn't have exposed himself if it put him in danger!"

"Bella I think we both know he would have, even if there was a chance he could be arrested as an apostate he would've helped the village anyway," Bevin explained.

"It seems you know me too well!"

The group turned their heads in shock. Walking up the hill towards them was their leader. Alpha let out a few soft barks as he ran towards his master. Daylen patted the dog's head and looked up at his companions.

"It wasn't going to last long anyway," he sighed.

"Daylen, we have no idea what the templars here are like, we should go while we still have the chance," Bella said.

"I'm sorry Bella, but I can't absolve myself of responsibility and I can't always hide behind the wardens, not only did I use magic to stop the Qunari but I also took him away from chantry custody, I took it upon myself to decide the best course of action for Kirkwall, something I thought I'd never have to do again," Daylen explained.

"That's what you do Daylen, you make the right choice for everyone, even if its deciding a country's fate you do the right thing," Bevin said.

"Sometimes it's not that simple," Daylen sighed.

"Maybe it is that simple, Daylen Amell!"

The former warden was probably the only member of his fellowship not to be shocked. Standing at the top of the hill was Cairn, his arms crossed with a stern look in his eyes. He took a few steps down the hill, his hand briefly touching the hilt of his sword. Bevin cautiously gripped his sword, only for Daylen to grab his wrist. After his teacher shook his head, Bevin bought his hand away from his sword. Daylen took a few steps towards the templar, raising his visor to look the man in the eyes.

"Your reputation is admired and it precedes you, but not all in Kirkwall care who you are, and not all in the order will see that what is best for Thedas is you remaining free," Cairn explained.

Herren and Wade both sighed in relief, but the good news didn't put a smile on Daylen's face.

"You templars aren't as firm in your convictions as I thought, what about the dictates of the order?" Daylen asked.

"Some of us would rather have a return to the times when the rules were cryptic and could be interpreted as we see fit. Others are loyal to the principles of the order and the chantry, the chantry is not the divine or the politics or the buildings, it is the will of people, it is a set of principles made to inspire good in those people," Cairn lowered his head slightly before smiling. "My family is alive because of you, if you were not free you would not be here to help, go about your business hero of Ferelden, but know that not everyone in Kirkwall will be pleased to see you. Some within even the chantry may see you as a threat to their authority, whilst others within the circle may try to use you to support their own rebellion," the templar explained.

"Is there any reason why the mages here would rebel, besides the obvious?"

"Knight-Commander Meredith is not as...diplomatic as the chantry would wish, I'll only say that the rumours about how much power the Viscount really has is true," Cairn said.

"So you're just going to let us go, what about your orders?" Bevin asked.

"The Knight-Captain order me to watch the villagers, not the travellers," Cairn smirked as he walked away from the group.

"Thank you," Daylen whispered, just loud enough for Cairn to hear.

Daylen turned around and began leading his group away from Wrenwith, a village that would have burned without his help. Part of the warden felt guilty though, the chantry would have been light in their punishment of the Saarebas, in comparison to what the Antaam Daylen gave him to would do. An hour of walking passed and the group came over a hill top. His concerns over the Knight-Commander, the Ferelden refugees and the Qunari faded as he looked upon the city of his birth. Kirkwall, the city of chains was not as he remembered it, home, now he thought of it as just another step on a journey that had no end for him, a journey to help as many people as he could before the calling claimed him.

Next Chapter 6: City of chains

* * *

Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter, next time Daylen and his group finally explore the city of chains and Hawke and her siblings begin efforts to raise coin for their expedition.


	7. Chapter 6: City of chains

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age

I know, the update took a while but I hope it doesn't disappoint, I haven't given up on this one don't worry.

Also the scenes towards the end include a lot of violence against women and very strong language

* * *

Rise of the Hawk's: Reunion

Chapter 6: City of chains

Daylen had heard that some elves often had feelings when they stepped on land that once belonged to their people. Then again elves tended to think they owned everything, that humans had no sense of originality in ideas or achievements. Daylen had more than once met the reasonable kinds of elves who had no feelings over the discovery of history. Not that they didn't care about the lost secrets of their people, they just valued other things that were just as important, rather than bask at the feeling of reclaiming lost history they simply thought of the practical use, what they could learn from that history. Humans were similar in the fact that some people just didn't get strong connections to their homelands. So when Daylen stepped into Kirkwall for the first time in twenty years he did not mourn what his homeland once was, for he had been a child back then and had not known what went on outside of his house, the barriers between nobility and the common folk. He felt nothing upon reaching Kirkwall, no urge to kiss the ground, no feeling that he had returned home because Kirkwall wasn't home for him just as the circle wasn't home for him. Alls he felt was the urge to help the people who looked like they needed help.

But he couldn't just throw coin at the feet of every poor person begging on the streets. He had to start influencing the city, investing in jobs for the refugees whom had taken Kirkwall as their home. Daylen and his companions entered the city of chains through the main gates of Lowtown. The markets were abuzz with activity, people browsing items, hagglers distracting merchants so thieves could take a loaf or a bag from their stall. Bevin pointed to the thieves but Daylen cut him off, intending to speak to him later about intervening and productive forms of help. Giving people coin and food was good, but they were at best temporary solutions, just enough to pick someone up. Helping was good, but lifting up was better, to lift someone up you had to give them opportunities. He lifted Wade and Herren up by giving them a reputation, by giving them materials to make fantastic works of art and the greatest blades and armour Thedas had ever seen. Bella he lifted up by saving her life at Redcliffe, by giving her confidence to protect herself from men whom only saw a tavern girl. Likewise he did the same with Bevin, showing him what courage truly was, returning his grandfather's sword and teaching him how to use it. Helping people was enough for Daylen, he was happy helping people. Uplifting however could not only be satisfying for Daylen but also influence real change.

"Why Lowtown?" Bella asked.

"Its seen by the nobility and Viscount just enough for whatever to go on there to have an impact, it's the place where the majority of Kirkwall faces struggle, a struggle I'll try to help make better and there's enough opportunity here for both smith work and taverns," Daylen explained.

"What makes you think I want to go for tavern work?" the red head put her hands to her hips and smirked at the warden.

Daylen sheepishly backed away, raising his hands defensively and grabbing for an excuse. Bella then began laughing, bring her hands away from her hips and wiping a tear from her eye. Daylen often didn't see jokes when it came to women, he was by no means a sexist and any woman who spent more than a few seconds speaking to him would know it. That didn't mean Bella didn't like playing the sexism game with him.

"I stick to what I'm good at, I've heard there's a pretty respectable tavern called the Hanged Man," Bella said.

"It's in the bad part of town," Harren pointed out.

"Really? So is Hightown the respectable part of town because it has the Blooming Rose there?"

"Good point!"

"Why don't we start working at Hightown, we already worked in the dirt at Denerim," Wade said.

"Wade, we don't have as good a reputation around these parts yet, once we've proven ourselves at the smithies here the nobility will be drawn to us and then we can begin making works of art again," his partner explained.

Daylen nodded his head in agreement, Wade was good at shaping armour and weapons from challenging materials like Silverite and Volcanic steel, but he didn't enjoy making weapons. He considered the golem shell armour and Vigilance works of art and not mere weapons. Lowtown had one or two smithies, a crowd that could watch Wade work and spread word of his expertise. Daylen looked at his apprentice and knew that Bevin intended to join the city guard, it would be starting point for Bevin to become more familiar with the cruel aspects of big city crime and a place where he could perfect his skills on his own.

"We can go our separate ways here or go to each of our places together," Daylen said.

"I think it's better if we go now Daylen, oh how fortunate I was to have met you, you whom changed my life forever," Wade said, wiping a tear from his eyes as he wrapped his arms around Daylen.

"Wade, you do realise Daylen's going to be living in this city right?" Harren asked.

"Hush, I'm savouring the moment," Wade rubbed the plates of Daylen's armour.

'He's not saying goodbye to Daylen...he's saying goodbye to the armour,' Bella and Bevin thought, sweat drops running down the backs of their heads.

"See you later Daylen," Harren said casually.

Waving a goodbye to the two men, Daylen walked with Bella and Bevin through the streets of Kirkwall's Lowtown. Most of the houses were made of stone that looked brittle, not capable of surviving sieges or break ins. The city guard patrols were also infrequent, all the way to the foreign markets Daylen hadn't seen one guard and there were at least thirteen petty crimes that could have been averted by the presence of a guard. Bella and Bevin were instantly draw to the Ferelden imports store, which unlike the other national stores was in a shack and not set up at a stall. There was also a line of people going through another door. Whilst his two companions walked into the store, Daylen remained outside, passing the Antivan imports and browsing the potions stall. The woman managing it was dressed in modest attire that seemed half way between nobility and commoner. She carried herself like a noble woman, with a straight posture and an elegance that matched her beauty, and she was by all accounts beautiful, blonde hair and blue eyes and full lips. Her skills as a herbalist were also evidenced by the condition of the potions. Daylen removed a poultice and pulled off the cork, sniffing the contents.

"It smells terrible, which usually means it works," Daylen said.

"You won't find anything made in the wild here, we use quality ingredients freshly picked and we take our time brewing them," the lady said.

"Indeed, quick forming is good on the field but it helps to have them prepared in advance," Daylen put the bottle down and reached for his purse.

"If you don't mind me being so bold are you a sell sword or part of a mercenary group?" she asked.

"No, though I often cross paths with that world, I wanted to invest in growing businesses here in Kirkwall but I also wanted an opportunity to make some coin for myself. I like your stock and you strike me as experienced , and I hope you don't mind me being so bold you seem to be of nobility," Daylen bowed his head slightly.

The woman took no offence and curtsied, smiling at the armoured man.

"By marriage, Lady Elegant at your service, my husband has influence enough to get us into the finest parties but we haven't got the influence to sell in Hightown. It would be a waste of time anyway, I wanted to be here between both worlds so it would be easy for people of all status to buy from me. If you intend to provide Kirkwall's flourishing businesses with entrepreneurial help then you may want to start by setting yourself above the merchant's guild," the woman had a cautious look in her eyes and her voice cracked slightly, indicating concern.

"I am not afraid of the guild and I know how to deal with them. Your stock is good, well made and I presume it works well but I'm curious to know what level of experience you have in providing potions in mass quantities," Daylen explained.

"Not for the guard or even the templars, surprisingly its only smugglers or mercenaries with sufficient coin to hire the services of a Herbalist. All that you see here is what I've produced myself, I employ only hirelings to help carry my stuff from and back to my house every day," Lady Elegant said.

"There's a good amount of potions here though I noticed you don't have many tonics," Daylen paused, reaching into his bag until he pulled out a sheet of paper. "Here, some easy to make tonic recipes, where you can get the materials and their applications," he stated before removing a small vial from his pouch. "Most assist in the building of immunities to certain wild poisons, others provide relief for burns and act as disinfectants," the warden explained.

Lady Elegant, already intrigued by the mysterious knight looked over the documents and smiled. She saw that most of the plants needed for certain potions were actually grown in the regions surrounding Kirkwall. Though there were a few that didn't the knight also suggested alternatives. It was by no means a waste of time for either of them. He didn't waste words and though he was charming and polite he wasn't a sycophant. The young man removed a few coins from his pouch and took the poultice he had been sniffing earlier. She watched the knight walk up the steps towards Hightown, meeting with two companions, a young boy carrying an elven sword and a young red haired woman.

'Perhaps those will be faces worth remembering,' Elegant thought.

Bella and Bevin hadn't gotten much from the Ferelden imports though they did make Daylen aware of the situation their people were going through. Lines of Ferelden refugees, homeless and without coin had taken to receiving anything the store had to offer, Bevin told Daylen of how people would leave the store carrying dirty blankets and bits of stale food. It wasn't ideal but Daylen suspected it was all the store owners could afford. The kindness of the nobility seemed to be limited to simply letting the starving refugees into the city, then refusing to give any more than rotten food and unclean, even dangerous living quarters. Yet as Daylen walked through the streets of Hightown he began to see that the markets were just as small as the Lowtown ones.

But the mansions, the estates of the nobility were grand and luxurious, their owners would be in their gardens sipping tea or on the balconies smoking pipes. They lived like the kings of Fereldan, not in excess like the Orlesian nobility but just enough luxury to make the common people envy them. Daylen passed the merchant's guild district and looked at the Viscount's keep. It was more palace than fortress, Daylen could spot weak points in the mere design of the keep that any attacker would use for infiltration. Even though the city guard patrols were more focused around Hightown, security seemed lax, Daylen had caught sight of a few pick pockets. There was something to be respected about a man who could identify a target that could afford to be robbed and to pick his pocket without him realising it. Daylen wasn't about to stop those kind of thieves from earning the living they needed.

"Wow," Bella sighed in awe. "Do you remember it being this beautiful?" she asked.

Daylen lifted his visor up, smiling at the woman as he took her hand.

"This is all just the surface Bella, to me, the struggle and grime of Redcliffe was more beautiful than anything Kirkwall's Hightown has to offer," he explained and proceeded to point to different stalls. "There my mother would look at the silks they had on offer, our butler's daughter was getting married, and she wanted to get something nice for her, she bought a wedding dress so expensive that they sold it after the wedding, the old man could have retired but he stayed on. My uncle would trade in gems for decorative items, stones, candles, the man loved the extravagant, grandfather always told him to give a little to the servants, so he had new doors fitted to the houses of the servants, fine oak with locks only nobles paid for."

"But those are armour and weapons shops now," Bevin pointed out.

"Yeah, the place has changed," Daylen sighed as he slid his visor down.

Alpha whined, sensing his master's depression. The group went through the markets, until they reached the estates between the merchant's guild, and the viscount's keep. Daylen looked out for the Amell estate, or what had been the Amell estate in the past. He recalled a treasured memory as he had done with Bella and Bevin, but it was his memory to keep, his grandfather once held him up high on the balcony of their house.

'Behold Kirkwall, Daylen Amell, the greatest knight born, behold Daylen Amell, Kirkwall, the worst city in the marches,' was what his grandfather had said.

Fausten never denied that there was a corruption festering within the city. He and Threnhold, the last viscount had often spoke of this, though Daylen's young mind couldn't fathom the meaning of their words, and he couldn't recall them now. What he could remember was the friendship between Threnhold and his grandfather, a friendship that was shattered the day the viscount tried to exile the Chantry by force.

'Is the ideal to save Kirkwall mine, or yours grandfather?' he asked himself.

The question would remain unanswered, and of little interest to Daylen. As soon as he saw Alpha frantically bark, and run off, he ran after him. The Mabari ran towards the merchant's guild area, running underneath, and even jumping over crates carried by workers. A dwarf with a seemingly permanent frown yelled at the dog as he passed him. Daylen, Bella and Bevin ran into the district, the latter two bowing and apologising when the workers glared at them. The Warden looked across the street, taking note of the caravans being built, but ultimately scanning for his dog. He saw the dog, and something he didn't quite expect, or rather someone.

Alpha was on top of a young, blonde haired dwarf, licking his face madly. The dwarf laughed and rubbed Alpha's fur, even licking his face back. Alpha pulled his head back, looking at the dwarf in confusion. He then shook his head, as if to say 'oh well', before continuing to lick the dwarfs face. The dwarf's father also laughed and patted Alpha's fur. He wore the same work clothes his son wore, but didn't resemble him at all. Daylen knew they were father and son however, because he knew both dwarves. Bodahn Fedic looked towards the black knight, a smile gracing his lips as he walked forward. Alpha crawled off of Sandal and walked to Daylen's side.

"Enchantment," the simple, but also brilliant dwarf hummed.

Daylen knelt down and opened his arms, wrapping them around both dwarves as they hugged him. Bella wiped her eyes, the tears couldn't stop her from smiling however.

* * *

**Hanged man**

Bethany and Carver shifted nervously in their seats. Both had opposite reasons, Carver was nervous for a fight, Bethany was nervous over discovery. They were the classic warrior and mage pair respectively, he wanted loud, she wanted quiet. Loud came in the form of their sister's laugh, Marian emerged from her rented room with a blush across her face and a bottle in her hand. Carver slapped his forehead in embarrassment, Bethany however simply sighed.

"What have you done?" Carver asked.

"You know that older man who comes in? Has a wife, they both live in Hightown?"

"Yeah," Carver hummed, waiting for Marian to get to the point.

"Anyway, I pulled a classic red jenny trick, got him drunk, in his bedroom and just when we're about to..."

"Oh Maker," Bethany sunk under the table as her sister ranted.

"Then I said, 'sorry, I prefer your wife,'" Marian fell back and laughed.

"How are we related to a hero?" Bethany asked.

"Mother always said Marian took after father, and his attitude could shift at the click of a finger," Carver said.

"I would have loved to have met your father then," Varric spoke from the doorway, leaning there with his arms crossed.

He walked into the room, taking a chair and sitting across from the siblings. A moment of silence passed between them, only breaking when Varric grinned and laughed.

"You two are exactly like Hawke described," he said.

"What has sister said about us?" Carver asked.

"Let's see, Carver, massive chin like dad, uses a great sword to compensate for his lack of expertise in any kind of human contact besides fighting," Varric described.

Carver snarled as he squeezed his hands into fists.

"And Bethany, beautiful, smart and patient," the dwarf winked at the girl, causing her to blush.

"I know your reputation Ser Tethris," she said.

"And I know yours, mage," Varric said.

"Is that going to be a problem?" Carver asked, narrowing his eyes a Varric.

"Nope," he said casually.

"Really? You aren't afraid of magic?" Bethany asked.

"Exactly," he smiled.

"Dwarves aren't completely immune to magic you know," she said.

"I'm part of the Merchant's guild sunshine, most of the people I know want to kill me, and that's just because they think I owe them money. You're nineteen now right? You've spent this long outside of a circle tower, which means you're good enough to stay hidden, which means you've got some good control of your magic, you and I will never have a problem."

Bethany nodded in thanks, already liking the dwarf and his genuinely friendly tone. Carver however still wasn't completely convinced, not in the fact that Varric was genuinely a good person, he was still suspicious of his intentions.

"What about me?" the male Hawke asked.

"Well junior if one thing your sister praised your sword skills, I believe her exact words were 'he could beat all the idiots your brother has hired on his worst day', now I know bullshit when I hear it come out of people's mouths, trust me I'm a master of the art of bullshitting, which is why I know your sister isn't lying," Varric explained.

Carver looked at Varric, thinking it through before he nodded his head in approval.

"Wait a minute, did you just call me junior?"

"You'll get used to me," the dwarf laughed before signalling one of the serving girls over.

He handed her a few sovereigns for a drink. As the girl walked away, Marian slapped her face a few times to sober up. She took a chair at the head of the table and cleared her throat. Today was the day to discuss business, and begin composing a plan for saving money. She fortunately had Bethany for the sensible decisions, and her brother for getting things done. But the room, and her plan felt understandably empty. The pouch she took earlier wasn't significantly big, and wouldn't hold the family for a week.

"We appreciate the offer of help Varric, but realistically, it would take months for us to gather the coin we need to fund an expedition," Bethany said.

"Yeah, we haven't even got a permanent means of getting coin, even then we'd need to give money to our uncle, so we can eat and continue living there," Carver explained.

"Oh no, a permanent job is the worst thing you can do, independent work, favours will get you the coin you need. My brother unfortunately isn't as well liked as your sister is," Varric explained.

"There are always people out there bitching about their problems, waiting for someone to come and help them," Marian said.

"Weirdly your sister is right, Kirkwall's filled with people in need of help, people who will pay for help," Varric nodded to the serving girl as she bought him a drink.

"I suppose we could start with Aveline at the keep," Bethany said.

"It's a good start, but you should try lower down the food chain," Varric said.

"What? Why wouldn't we take help from the nobility in high town?" Carver asked.

"Because they're going to be in the dark and lowly places, looking for the people who are strong or ruthless enough to do their dirty work," Marian explained.

"Exactly, although the blooming rose is another place."

"WHAT!"

"Not like that Hawke...although...I'm kidding," Varric laughed as Bethany and Marian shot glares at him. "You just need to keep your ears out and listen to people in need of help, and check the chanter's board every now and then, sometimes a less than charitable job will get nailed onto it."

"Okay I get it, but what about getting into the deep roads, you mentioned an entrance would be a problem," Carver said.

"It won't be a problem if we know where to look, expeditions into the deep roads haven't been common in Kirkwall, or the free marches in general really, there's only one particular group that could tell us where to look for an effective entrance and exit, a group that has mapped the deep roads," Varric explained.

"The Grey Wardens."

"You guessed it sunshine, we'll need to talk to the grey wardens, other than a cache where people can donate information and equipment, there isn't a very big warden influence in Kirkwall," Varric said.

"So who are we supposed to talk to then?" Marian asked.

"I've heard rumours of a Grey Warden staying in the city, the source is reliable, but whoever he is, is secretive and doesn't reveal his location to many people," Varric said.

"I see, where can we start tracking him?" Bethany asked.

"There's a shop that supports Ferelden refugees, that would be the best place to start."

"It's just a short distance away from the hanged man actually," Varric said.

He stood up, latching his crossbow onto his back.

"Should we make our way over there?" he asked.

"Yeah, its best we get this search for the grey warden over with," Marian said.

She slid her daggers into their sheaths and stood up. Carver and Bethany picked up their own weapons and followed their sister. Unbeknownst to the company though, they were being watched by a man in a mercenary uniform.

* * *

The Blooming rose was a respectable enough place, good enough for a drink with an old friend. That was Daylen and Bodhan's only interest in the place. Bevin sat next to Daylen, blushing uncomfortably whenever a half naked woman would walk past. The boy had better hearing than Daylen, so he was hearing every little sound in the brothel. He nearly reached for his sword when he saw a group of templars.

"Recruits, don't worry about them," Daylen whispered to him.

He took his hand away from the blade, looking at the templars again. Most were barely a few years older than him. Some had eager smiles on their faces, others tried and failed to put on the mask of professionalism and pride most fully trained templars had. Bella walked over to the group, nursing her right hand.

"Is everything okay?" Bevin asked.

"Had to punch a guy who got a bit too fresh with me, he actually thought I worked here," she said.

She took a seat next to Daylen and downed the ale waiting for her.

"If there's trouble we can go," he said.

"No, the mistress said he deserved it and even the other patrons laughed, his bark is worse than his bite trust me," Bella gestured to the scene taking place behind her.

Daylen looked over her shoulder, seeing a middle aged man nursing his jaw. The mistress of the rose crossed her arms together as he walked towards the door.

"Watch yourself next time Gamlen," she said.

"Blasted Ferelden's, no distinction between tavern wench and prostitute," the man said.

"Disgusting," Bella muttered.

"It couldn't be," she heard Daylen whisper.

He stood up, recalling a face and voice from long ago. It didn't resonate with him as much as his mother or grandfather's, but the memory was strong. The man had been younger however, less bitter, and brighter too in a way that separated nobles from commoners. Daylen began walking to the door, stopping as he barged into an older man in a mercenary outfit.

"Watch where your fucking going, goddamned nob knights," the man said bitterly.

Daylen was prepared to ignore him and continue looking for Gamlen, he was stopped however when another mercenary dashed towards his leader.

"They're ready Meeran, they'll catch Hawke as she goes to the markets," the mercenary said.

"Good, and her brother and sister?"

"They're with her."

"Good, after what that cunt did to my hand, I hope hers is long and painful, make sure they leave the body where it is, the rest of the do gooders will learn what happens when you fuck with the Red Iron," Meeran explained, taking a swig from his drink.

Daylen looked at the mercenaries, whom were completely ignorant of his interest. He walked back over to the table and picked up his lance.

"Sorry Bodahn, Sandal, we'll have to catch up another time," he said.

"What's wrong?" Bevin asked.

"Nothing I can't handle alone, Bodahn can you help my friends settle?" Daylen asked.

"Of course mister Amell, once again it's good to see you," Bodahn smiled.

Daylen held his lance tightly as he walked out of the blooming rose.

* * *

"Maker damn it, 'oh don't worry mother, everything will be fine, Meeran's bark is worse than his bite', yeah great logic sister!"

"Oh shut up Carver!"

"Would you both please be quiet, this isn't the time to fight each other," Bethany cut through her sibling's arguments and turned her attention to their pursuers.

The store had been crowded by people trying to get in, so much that Marian decided it would be better to find the Warden in the morning. Making their way back through the markets, the group noticed they were being followed. Low town's rooftops were easy to climb up to, and even easier to traverse, they made aerial attacks easy. Ambushing however was another story, Varric had given the first warning. He had saved Carver from an arrow to the throat, afterwards the mercenaries jumped from the roof and chased after them.

"This is not a good way to go, they'll box us in if we keep going this way," Varric said.

"Where too then?" Marian asked.

"Take a left," he said.

The Hawke siblings and their dwarven companion turned, running down another cavern like street. Sliding to a halt, the group barged into another group of mercenaries. Carver was the first to get up out of the hurdle, drawing his sword and swinging it round.

"GET BACK!" he yelled.

The men were cautious, stepping away from the Hawke, only for the sake of their own safety. But any threat Carver had paled in comparison to what would happen if they failed. Carver walked backwards with the group as they made their way to an alleyway.

"Shit, not a good place to go either," Varric said as mercenaries came out of their hiding spots.

Marian's eyes darted around, counting each enemy.

'Four on the rooftops, scratch that now ten on the streets, six behind us, two dagger men, eight swords, four maces, two spears, no mages, all disorganised, no sign of Meeran, Maker damned coward, no respect either if he's sending these men against us,' she analysed the situation in her humoured manner.

She drew her daggers as Varric drew out his bow, and Bethany her staff. Their actions didn't make the men back down however, they continued to approach.

"Bethany, fire in front," Marian said.

Bethany hesitantly waved her hand around, launching a fireball at the mercenaries. Ambushed or not, she was still an apostate in a city run by the templars. The fire grazed the shields of the men in front, but it was enough to get them to back off.

"Ice in the back," she commanded.

Again Bethany waved her hand, this time releasing a winter's grasp at the men behind her. It hit some of them with frost bite, but it wasn't enough to kill them. Adrenaline took over for some, but a shot from Bianca gave them pause, and bought another man to the ground. Marian was glad to have Varric there, and Bianca, it was a useful weapon despite the mystery behind it. She raised her daggers, cursing her stupidity for not bringing her bow. With one man already dead, another ran forward. Carver easily deflected the man's blow and slashed him across the gut. He raised the blade, a pose for fighting he had been taught in the military, it was also a taunt, an urge for the men to come at him. There were two or three men bigger than Carver, but Marian knew he could beat them. No amount of skill however could overcome numbers, or match the authorities. Whatever bribes Meeran had given the guards wouldn't hold if the fight lasted too long, or if Bethany's magic was fully unleashed.

"Push forward," she commanded.

She gripped Carver's shirt, using him as a make shift phalanx. Carver held the flat end of his sword, using it to shove his enemies back. It was a quick and strong strike, enough to give them room to move. They shuffled into the open space, Marian saw some people shut the curtains on their windows. None had the luxury of alerting the guard, and others simply didn't care what happened outside their door. Marian braced herself as the spear men ran forward. Carver was already in front of her, shattering the poles with a single swing of his sword. He beheaded one of the men and pointed his blade at the other's neck.

"Fuck em, we've got orders," the other men ran forward in groups.

Varric fired a bolt, hitting a mercenary in the leg. Carver imbedded his sword in another man's chest, yanking it out and blocking another enemy's strike. Bethany, on instinct threw her hand forward, spraying an attacker with fire. The flames melted his leather armour onto his skin, and coated his face, his screams echoed through the streets. Before, Marian had taken care to keep Bethany away from the serious fights of the Red Iron. She had tried to keep Bethany from seeing, and feeling the death of a human being at her own hands. Darkspawn were different, their agony you could enjoy. Marian saw the horror on her sister's face, the lump in her throat from vomit.

"BETHANY LOOK OUT!" Marian screamed.

"MOVE!" Carver yelled.

She stumbled to the ground as a bulking man slammed into her. He carried a sword over his shoulder and grinned at her.

"I've love how even when you're about to throw up, you're still beautiful," he said, trapping her staff hand underneath his foot.

"DON'T HOLD BACK BETHANY!" Carver yelled, tackling another thug to the ground.

Varric took aim with Bianca, only for his bolt to hit another mercenary that got in the way. He grinned at the mercenaries approached him. With the pull of a lever, a blade slid out of Bianca's barrel. Varric broke a man's knee with the butt of the crossbow, then proceeded to mercilessly stab him multiple times. Blood spread across the dwarf's coat, but he didn't stop until the man ceased moving. Marian ran to help her sister, only for two men to tackle her. They had abandoned their weapons to pin her to the ground, one sitting on her right arm whilst the other held her left down. She kicked one of the men and grabbed the other's head, biting into his ear. The man screamed like a baby as she tore the appendage off, spitting it into his eyes.

"FUCKING BITCH!" he yelled, kicking her in the chest.

The other mercenary grabbed her by her hair and slammed her head against the ground. Even disorientated, Marian still gathered the strength to grab her dagger and stab the man in the groin. He fell back, nursing the maimed appendage. Marian then sunk her blade into the other man's foot, causing him to cry out again.

"Pretty little Bethany," the hulking man said as he leant his knee into Bethany's shoulder. "We don't want the templars coming when you show off your magic do we?" he asked.

Bethany gathered fire into her hand, only for the man to drive his knee into her stomach. She finally vomited, coating the man's knee.

"Dirty cunt," he snarled. "Look at me, LOOK AT ME!" he yelled, gripping Bethany's chin. "Do one thing for me, and I'll tell Meeran to back off, your sister on the other hand, well you're going to have to convince her to behave, understand?"

Bethany defiantly spat in the man's eye.

'That's my sister, she's no damsel,' Marian thought proudly.

But her heart still sank as the man slapped her, bruising her face. He raised his foot to stomp on her again. But then the man stopped, and he turned his head. Someone else had entered the fight, seemingly unnoticed until then. He wore black armour, with markings across it that formed a demonic figure. The mercenary's eyes drifted towards the lance in the knight's left hand. Suddenly, the knight thrust the weapon forward, tearing it straight through the bigger man's chest. He shoved the mercenary forward, sliding the lance out of his flesh. Then, in a moment that astonished the gang and their victims, the knight twirled the lance into a reverse grip. He threw the lance, sending it flying into the mercenary standing near Marian. It moved so fast that it threw the man back, ripping his pinned foot apart, and pinning him against the wall. The mercenaries stood in shock at the sheer strength the knight had demonstrated.

"I'm guessing one of you is Hawke," the knight said.

Next Chapter 7: Finally meet

* * *

The moment you've all been waiting for, the reunion finally occurs, hope the chapter wasn't disappointing.


	8. Chapter 7: Finally meet

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age

It was demanded, so here it is, I felt a rush of inspiration after the last chapter. This chapter finally sees the family meet, and unlike the game, gives a face to those Gamlen sold the estate too, that's right more OC's :), sorry if you guys are haters of them.

Anyway enjoy the chapter I enjoyed writing :)

* * *

Rise of the Hawke's: Reunion

Chapter 7: Finally meet

Marian could sense the fear dripping from the mercenaries. They had already lost half their numbers, to her and her siblings, Varric and Carver were both on their feet. But even they were astonished by the knight's sudden appearance. He was around Carver's height, but not his build, still, it would have taken considerable strength for him to throw his weapon as he did. Strength, and accuracy, the kind an archer had. Marian rose from the floor, gripping her daggers cautiously as the knight offered Bethany his hand.

"Have we met before?" he asked, tilting his head as if recognising the girl.

He took a hold of her staff as another one of the mercenaries ran towards him. Thrusting the staff forward, he broke the man's teeth, shoving the tip of the staff into his mouth. Pushing the staff against his head, the knight positioned the mercenary until he had his back to his comrades.

"You've already lost your strongest fighters, go back to your commander, and tell him that Hawke is not worth it," he said.

His voice had been calm and diplomatic, but there was a clear threatening tone that many of the soldiers detected. The knight pulled the staff back and slammed the end of it into the man's groin. He was bought to his knees, nursing the area. But the knight didn't stop there, he tapped the staff against the ground, and motioned for the other men to pick their ally up. They cautiously approached, jerking every time the knight tapped his staff. He raised his hand as Carver made a move, shaking his head very strongly. Marian too shook her head at her brother, making her way to Bethany.

"Wow, this is some story book shit," Varric muttered.

The knight continued tapping the staff against the ground, watching the mercenaries as they stumbled for the alleyway.

"I know what those men intended to do to you," he began, turning to Bethany and Marian. "But with two of them dead at my hand, I'd like to know why they had attacked you, I had heard Meeran call you a 'do-gooder', what did he mean by that?" the young man asked.

"Um, sir, whatever, how long have you been in Kirkwall?" Varric asked.

"About a day at the most I would say," he said.

"Wait, you helped us without really knowing why we were being attacked in the first place?" Carver asked.

"You needed help, your attackers weren't wearing a city guard or templar uniform, so they obviously weren't part of a legitimate organisation, you were outnumbered and they were employing very sadistic methods to incapacitate you. That and when I saw Meeran at the blooming rose I got a very bad feeling from him," the knight explained.

He gave Bethany her staff and checked her face. Marian kept a hold of her knife, still cautious as the man turned her sister's face from side to side. Bethany blushed at the contact, especially when he touched her stomach.

"You'll have a bruise on your face for a few days, no real damage though, I would run a basic healing spell over your stomach though, just in case they damaged any of your organs," he explained.

"You know what I am?" Bethany asked.

"If you're looking to hide you should put more blades on your staff, or fake a limp," lightning crackled between the knight's finger tips as he stepped back.

"You're a mage too, why are you in Kirkwall then?" Marian asked.

"Looking for people who need help, things are stable in Ferelden now, why haven't you gone back?"

"We lived in Lothering," Bethany said.

That was all the information the knight needed. He nodded his head and walked to where his lance had been imbedded. Yanking the weapon free, he rested it on his shoulder as he sat against the wall.

"It will be some time before anything can grow on Lothering's soil again," he said.

"Our family originated from Kirkwall too," Marian said.

"Sister, I don't think we should say anything more," Carver said.

The siblings looked between one another. Marian was uncertain, Carver was cautious, and Bethany clearly felt indebted to the man. Varric stood to the side, with Bianca on his back, it was clear he had already developed an opinion of the man. One he wasn't willing to force on the siblings. The knight also looked between the siblings, noticing the family conflict. He quickly stood up and walked towards one of the alleyways.

"Where are you going?" Marian asked.

"Your brother is right, it would be safe of you not to tell me why you stay in Kirkwall, I am a stranger," the knight said.

"Do you have anywhere to stay?" Bethany asked.

"There is a tavern right?" he asked.

"There's the hanged man," Varric said.

"Good, then I will take my leave of you, I recommend you return to your home for now," the knight continued walking away, even as Bethany called out to him.

"Thank you for helping us!"

* * *

Being thanked never truly got old, it wasn't the main reason Daylen helped people, but it was always good to hear. But walking away from the siblings bothered him. It wasn't just the possibility that Meeran would continue his attacks, but the siblings themselves. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had seen them before, the fact that they were from Lothering only doubled that instinct. Then there was how the sisters looked, particularly the elder one. Both reminded Daylen of Leandra, his second cousin. If one were to take away the elder sister's bruises, and aggressive demeanour, then she would be a dead ringer of Leandra. The blue eyes in each of the siblings was also a sign of their Amell blood. Who the dwarf was Daylen didn't know, a family friend, or perhaps their new employer. It made sense that the trio had indebted themselves to people, particularly with the younger sister being a mage. To get into the city, each of them had to provide something. The younger sister's talents were obvious, as was the brother's. He wore the old and torn fragments of a Fereldan uniform, even how he held his sword was based on their infantry training. The older sister had to have been in the army too.

'Ostagar, both of them were at Ostagar,' he realised.

Daylen began to paint a picture, of two of the siblings running from the massacre, hiding in the Kocari wilds and moving with the hurlock scouts behind them. His own party had probably reached Lothering far ahead of them, particularly with Morrigan's knowledge of the wilds, and its shortcuts. The youngest must have been waiting, one of many faces in the crowds of people waiting for news of loved ones. One of many whom ignored his call for them to go to Denerim, it was obvious now why.

'Our family, reduced to refugees, mercenaries and nomads,' Daylen thought regretfully.

He had hoped that somewhere, some part of the family had endured. True they were alive, and that was more important to Daylen, but their fortune was gone. When people heard the Amell name, they probably only thought of him. Anora had acknowledged him as an honorary citizen of Ferelden, even knighted him, though Daylen gave his lands away to the wardens. He didn't consider Ferelden home, only the keep were his warden brother and sisters now resided. Kirkwall still didn't feel like a home, even with the knowledge that his family was still there.

'I know what you would think of all this, grand uncle,' Daylen bitterly thought of the family head and his strong grip on tradition.

Or perhaps somehow, with Leandra no longer by his side, the old man had begun to appreciate family more, and become somewhat humbled by his losses. But the dead had no voice, whatever wishes they had in life, were up to those who remained to carry out.

'Grandfather, are my ideals simply borrowed from you?' Daylen thought as he got closer and closer to the Tavern.

He could see the name of it on both the door, and the mannequin bobbing on its rope. The hanged man, it was not a place Daylen would have remembered, other than a few vague conversations his uncle and grandfather had. Standing next to the door was Adaar, clearly she had been waiting a long time.

"Wake up," Daylen said.

She opened her eyes, looking around the area as if ready for a fight.

"I was trying to look cool," she said.

"You succeeded," Daylen smiled, lifting up his visor and standing beside his companion.

"I kept my ear to the ground, I heard that the Qunari have punished a Sera-bas," she said.

Her tone was all business, the kind you would expect from a Qunari. Since Daylen found her, he found that her mood would often slip between aggressive, compassionate and sometimes sarcastic humour. With the situation demanding it, she was focused on her old objective, and the possibility of a fight.

"The Arishok dismissed the Chantry's attempts to capture him as a mild annoyance, he had the mage beheaded, his list of problems besides a shattered ship include defection within the ranks. Many of his numbers have gone missing, or have been confirmed to have become Tal-Vashoth. His numbers have been significantly reduced, but there would still be enough to take this city, especially with the defences as meagre as they are," Adaar explained.

"I don't think this is a war party, they were clearly pursuing that ship in the storm, and they were clearly set on catching it no matter what the danger was," Daylen said.

"Yeah, they wouldn't send a single dreadnought crew to convert a city, especially considering they are only Antaam."

Daylen nodded his head in agreement, before reaching for the door handle.

"You have already begun to make a mark here, I thought you wanted your presence to remain a secret," Adaar said.

"I couldn't just walk away, are the others staying here?" Daylen asked.

"I assume on a temporary basis," Adaar nodded.

Daylen opened the door and stepped into the tavern. With night beginning to pass, the atmosphere was busy. The state of the hanged man was a downgrade from what Daylen had to stay in when in Ferelden, but just as lively. Groups were singing together, drinking, eating, and being as merry as they could without a fight starting. Along with the main drinking area, Daylen saw a set of stairs that led to rooms of differing sizes. He walked through the crowds of drinkers, making his way to the bar.

"A single room please," he said to the keeper.

"Sorry, haven't got any single rooms left," the man said.

"I'd be happy to share," a voice said from the corner of the bar.

Daylen looked towards the speaker, finding her tone of voice very familiar. She was dressed in a brown cloak and hood, but Daylen could see the little cover on her legs. They were thick with muscle, brown and very smooth. The boots she wore were expensive thigh highs, but practical too. He could smell the salt on her clothes, and see the ornate daggers hidden under her cloak.

"So long as you keep the armour on," he saw the piercing underneath her lip as she smirked, the strands of her brown hair, and the glitter of her jewellery.

The voice was a dead ringer, she was Rivaini, the smell was right, and she had tastes as odd as Zevran's. It was definitely Isabela under the hood, queen of the eastern seas, a pirate and smuggler, and someone Daylen had learnt duelling skills from. She was a fighter, but also as intelligent as a hunter, and as beautiful as the well groomed noble ladies. But she wasn't the kind of woman Daylen wanted to trust yet, even Zevran said she wasn't to be taken lightly, and Zevran clearly loved her (several times in fact).

"My friend requires a single room, there's no danger but it is best for your comfort if you don't share with him," Adaar said, slipping to Daylen's side.

"Hmm, well there is a bit of a problem, my room is very cosy," Isabela said, pouting slightly.

"Then perhaps you would still be willing to share," Adar slipped her room key into Daylen's hand, before making her way to Isabela.

"What did you have in mind sweet thing?" Isabela asked.

She and Zevran had to have been cut from the same cloth.

* * *

Marian stood outside Gamlen's house, biting her nail as her siblings waited impatiently.

"We're going to have to go in sooner or later sister," Carver said.

"Oh and how will this conversation go brother, 'hey mother, remember when I told you I could handle Meeran? Well it turns out I completely underestimated how much Meeran holds a grudge, now us, and quite possibly you are in danger, so you can't walk out of the house anymore because Meeran's men might just attempt to rape you, as they did us,'" Marian explained, her voice then shifted to a lower tone, "Oh Marian, why can't you be sensible, you mustn't put your siblings in such danger, oh how I miss Lothering and your father, if only we hadn't lost the family fortune,' and then good old uncle Gamlen becomes involved, 'Don't bloody well put this on me, you're the one who went off with her Ferelden apostate.'"

"Marian, this isn't going to get done any faster with you hanging around the door," Bethany said.

"Oh for Maker's sake, let me do it," Carver barged past his sister and gripped the door handle.

He swung the door open, and the three siblings came upon another case of sibling bickering in their family.

"Servitude, Servitude Gamlen, my children were repaying your debts as much as they were paying their dues," Leandra said.

"It got them into the city didn't it? And they were lucky enough to get jobs anyway, not everyone can be so lucky," retorted Gamlen.

Both Amells were standing up, and practically yelling across the length of Gamlen's shack. The very presence of Leandra's children seemed to go unnoticed, Marian slipped into the house, whilst Bethany retreated to her room.

"How do you expect me to provide coin then? You've lived here longer, why can't you get a job?" Leandra asked.

"I had a job Leandra."

"Treasure hunting?"

"Yes, and it was a life of adventure, far better than I got here," Gamlen said.

"But then you lost everything, including whatever mother and father left me."

"You don't get to leave the family and then complain about what you weren't given, father was very clear about what he expected from you, and the consequences of anything you did," Gamlen explained.

"Mother, Gamlen," Marian called out to both of them.

It stopped both of them, and Leandra looked at the bruises on her eldest daughter's face.

"Oh Marian," she gasped, putting her hand to her mouth.

"You should see the other guy, in fact don't," Marian said.

Leandra traced her hand across Marian's face and drew her into a hug.

"Trying to squeeze mother for coin, bad move uncle," Carver snarled.

"I was easier to live here before you all came here, paying the bills for three more mouths is even harder, especially considering the low job market," Gamlen explained.

"Listen mother, things are difficult, but Gamlen can't change the past, neither can we, and I don't regret a thing," Marian said, rubbing the back of her mother's head.

Bethany walked out of her room, the bruises on her face concealed by the strands of her hair. She had poured water over her face, also washing some of the dirt off of her skin. Leandra pulled her youngest into the hug, oblivious of her injuries. Carver remained on the other side, shaking his head at Marian as she smiled at him.

"I just can't believe that father didn't leave me anything, what about the will?" Leandra asked, looking up at Gamlen.

"Nothing, besides I don't have it," he said.

"What do you mean you don't have it?" Bethany asked.

"I left it in the estate when I sold it."

"Who the hell does that?" Carver asked.

"It doesn't matter, the fact is we can't take it back," Gamlen said.

"What if we talk to the new owners?" Leandra asked.

"You think they'll want to hear from you, they aren't the kind of people you just go up to and talk to," Gamlen huffed as he turned away, the conversation over in his mind.

The twins and Marian, generally felt worse than they would have felt if they had told their mother what happened. Marian held Leandra close, seeing the tears threatening to burst from her eyes. It tempted her to cry as well, but she remained strong, both for her mother and her siblings. Carver shook his head and walked out of the shack.

* * *

Daylen knew the difference between a moan of pleasure, and a moan of agony. It was difficult to determine which was coming from Isabela's room. Coincidentally, Adaar's room had been next to hers. Whether it had been her intention, Daylen had no idea. Whatever the couple were doing, the noise would pale in comparison to Daylen's night terrors. Bella and Bevin often forgot that he was a grey warden, which meant carrying the taint. Daylen experienced the terrors most nights. He adjusted his bedding, as Isabela and Adaar's lovemaking reached its crescendo. When Adaar's giggling stopped, Daylen walked over to his table. His armour had been placed in the corner of the room, leaving Daylen in a simple pair of blue trousers. The candle light illuminated the multitude of scars across his chest and arms.

'You never said she was a screamer Zevran,' Daylen thought.

Casting aside memories of his assassin friend, Daylen poured the tea into his cup. The floorboards creaked as he walked across the room, taking small sips as he thought of the city. His family's city, their home for generations and his grandfather's greatest love. A knock suddenly came at the door, and Daylen began walking to it. He kept his tea cup full, it was still hot, which would make it a good weapon. It wasn't necessary, as Bella's face appeared as he opened the door.

"I know you didn't get to eat today, and Alpha was missing you," she said.

She gave him a basket with a few slices of ham, cheese and half a loaf of bread. The Mabari also squeezed through the gap in the door, and promptly ran to Daylen's bed.

"Is everything all right?" Bella asked.

Daylen thought for a moment, wondering if he could, or even should share his troubles with this woman. She wasn't like Morrigan or even Leliana, she was every bit as beautiful, but not a fighter. On one hand Bella had a strength Morrigan and Leliana hadn't. Even Leliana was slipping into the violence of her life, the violent side that the chantry tried to deny existed. Bella was still innocent in the sense that she had not taken a life, or had truly embraced just how violent the world was.

"Everything's fine, were Sandal and Bodahn upset?" he asked.

"No, they understand, they even offered Bevin a place to stay, the offers still on the table," Bella said.

"It's a good offer, it would give you your own room," Daylen said.

"You wouldn't have to sleep in Adaar's room," Bella smiled.

Daylen put the basket on the table, and proceeded to put on his shirt.

"You know why I do this Bella, I don't want to put you through the shock of my nightmares," he sighed.

"I'm not afraid, I've had nightmares of my own Daylen, in fact someone else being with you makes it better," Bella said.

Daylen hesitantly turned to Bella, looking into her hopeful green eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said.

He closed the door, leaning his head against it. He knew Bella was on the other side, waiting, believing he'd choose her. Daylen knew he could be frustratingly stoic sometimes, but with Bella, he found himself smiling more often. Bella knew he had feelings for her, because he made his feelings for her obvious. Alpha whined, sensing his master's conflict. Daylen ran a hand across the Mabari's back, taking a bite from the ham and offering the rest to Alpha. He eagerly took the meat into his mouth, prancing around the room as Daylen stood up. Clearly the dog still had energy left.

"Like owner, like Mabari," Daylen muttered.

Daylen picked up another shirt, fastening the buttons up to his collar. The clothes were often what he wore whenever he wasn't in his armour. It was practical wear, casual wear, even his formal wear (much to the chagrin of his hosts). They had no elaborate markings or decorations on them, he could walk the streets of a village and the halls of a mansion, and the appearance would only draw attention at an Orlesian ball. In fact he even received a death threat from an enchanter.

'What was her name? Valeria, Villieta, something that started with V,' Daylen tapped his head as he tried to remember.

He broke the bread apart and put a piece into his pocket. Forgetting his lack of memory (or care) concerning the Orlesian aristocracy, Daylen picked his dagger up from the table and slid it into his hidden wrist sheath. He opened the door, and seeing that Bella as gone walked down to the bar area. The bar keep looked at Daylen for a moment, taking a moment to recognise him as the black knight. One or two drinkers were passed out at their table, and Daylen spotted the dwarf from earlier sitting on his own, the odd crossbow he used resting on his chair leg.

"I'm not shitting you, the guy threw his lance so fast it sent Fargo flying into the wall," the dwarf said.

"Sure Varric," the barkeep muttered, half interested.

"I've never seen the Red Iron retreat so quickly, they were completely out of their league, I'm thinking Marian's going to have to rethink Bartrand's...choice...of guards..." Varric's voice drifted slightly as he saw Daylen walked past him, followed closely by Alpha.

Daylen waved his hand once to the dwarf before he reached the door. Walking out onto the streets, Daylen took a deep breath, taking in the air of the night. He and Alpha began walking through the streets, exploring and memorising each street, each alleyway, every way to access the different levels of the city, including the rooftops. Alpha looked up at his master as he walked across the roofs, looking up at the stars and at the lights of the gallows. The circle tower of Kirkwall, was nothing like lake Calenhad's tower, looking at it reminded Daylen more of Fort Drakon, the sense of dread and depressing atmosphere.

"I know," Daylen said when Alpha barked up at him.

The place was a former prison, back when Kirkwall was a fief of the Imperium. Hundreds of years, and the chantry had done nothing to change the architecture or the purpose. Yet, Daylen could sense the weakened veil, and he wasn't even anywhere near the tower. He broke off into a run across the rooftops, surprising patrolling guards as he jumped between roofs. Alpha ran through the streets, following Daylen's path towards the docks. Sniffing at the salty air, Daylen and Alpha stopped at the edge of the docks. Daylen took a seat, dangling his feet over the water. He scratched Alpha's ears and put the piece of bread from earlier into his mouth.

"We're in this together Carver!"

Daylen, the bread still sticking out of his mouth, turned his head towards the voices. To his surprise, the twin Hawke siblings were walking on the street.

"He was walking in this direction Bethany, what noble walks all the way from Hightown to the docks in the middle of the night?" the young man asked.

'Carver,' Daylen thought, memorising the name.

"We should get Marian, I don't like this," said the young woman.

'Bethany,' Daylen recalled as he climbed up onto the nearby roof.

"You shouldn't have followed me then," Carver said.

"You walked off, just when mother needed us," Bethany said.

"You and Marian seemed to be doing fine on your own, me? I would rather find out exactly what kind of people Gamlen sold mother's estate to," Carver explained.

"I...actually agree, I mean why wouldn't he take grandfathers will? He's not a complete idiot," Bethany followed behind her brother, the twins made their way to one of the lit up ships.

Daylen double backed, signalling Alpha to subtly follow his cousins. He walked across the rooftops, looking not just at the twins, but their intended target. A noble, obviously from the fine clothing he wore, and the finer grooming. The man had the build of an old fighter, though his strength had probably atrophied from age. Daylen could see the man's blonde hair and trimmed beard. The boat he was headed too was big, Daylen knew little of ships, but he knew you could fit heavy cargo into the ship. He took cover, peaking over to see the security of the ship. Traders would keep swords and spears on for raider attacks, these men however were dressed more like warriors than fishermen. He counter groups of men in leather with swords and shields, groups in scale mail and great swords, and armoured robes.

"Mages," he heard Carver mutter.

'Don't talk to loud,' Daylen mentally chided the man.

Carver looked at the ship with fury in his eyes. He was tempted to draw his sword and attack, Bethany however held him back. That, and the sensible part of his mind told him they needed more information. Daylen narrowed his eyes as the cabin door opened. A dark haired woman stepped out of the cabin, her hair was almost enchanting in how it curled and draped over her shoulders. Her skin was clear, lips glossed over and her figure was well maintained.

"Pick your jaw up brother," Bethany elbowed Carver, clearly he thought the same thing Daylen had.

But even the most beautiful flowers could hold the deadliest poisons. Daylen looked at the woman's clothes, a dark shirt with white, puffy sleeves. Her hands were covered by black gloves, leather trousers hugged her hips and the heels of her boots clicked against the wood. She was of nobility, she was of magic, she was of the Tevinter Imperium. Keeping her hands on her hips, she smirked as she walked around the Kirkwall noble.

"How many?" she asked.

"Two hundred," the man said, Daylen could hear the smile in his voice, and it disgusted him.

"You should be able to get more, what with the Qunari whom have been marooned here, the Arishok will have lost many of his men, including Sera-bas," the woman, probably a Laetan, explained.

"Hirelings will only get you so far, no matter how much gold we pay mercenary companies it won't guarantee success," the noble said.

"Very well, but he'll be very disappointed when he arrives," the woman sighed.

"He's coming to Kirkwall?"

"Of course, and when he gets here, he won't be happy to know that whilst you and your daughter's bastard children have been living in luxury, his stock has been starving to death, hungry slaves leads to dead slaves, Lord Hyderian!"

'Bingo,' Daylen thought.

Carver and Bethany seemed to be satisfied with the information as well. They crept out of sight of the ship, through into an alleyway.

"Slavers, Gamlen sold the estate to fucking slavers," Carver growled.

"I can't believe he would do this, where are the city guard during all this?" Bethany asked.

"Oh please, we can't depend on them, we need to get Marian and start planning what we're going to do about this," Carver said.

Daylen dangled his leg over the edge of the roof, smirking slightly as Alpha appeared before the twins. He barked, jumped around them as if wanting a treat.

"You're cute boy, but please be quiet," Bethany whispered.

"It's quite all right, they can't hear us from here," Daylen said.

Carver quickly drew his sword, keeping it raised high as Daylen landed on the floor. Daylen brushed the dirt off of his clothes, and adjusted his collar.

"Sorry for following you Bethany, Carver, I was worried you might need help again," he said.

"Again?" Carver looked at him in confusion.

"I see you followed my advice about the healing magic," Daylen said to Bethany.

She touched the bruises on her face, and then looked at Daylen. The realisation struck her, as if she was being kicked again. That memory of Lothering, of a man she never would have suspected of being her cousin, helping the villagers, urging them to run as fast as they could. His voice, his appearance, even with the muscle he had gained he looked as she remembered him.

"You, the knight with the lance," Carver said.

"He's more than that Carver," Bethany said, stepping between Carver and Daylen.

She took their hands, smiling with tears of joy in her eyes. Carver looked at Daylen, trying to determine where his twin was going.

"Hello cousin," Daylen said.

Carver gasped, looking at the man who was a hero in their country. He was taller than he expected, and bigger than Marian described. Of course it had been a year since Ostagar, a year since the day their destinies had changed.

"You helped people at Lothering?" Carver asked.

"Yes," Daylen said.

"But you couldn't help us?"

Daylen paused, thinking his answer through as he often did.

"Yes," he said, "I probably could've helped you, and so many more, I often think that if I had stayed, waited, or maybe drawn the hordes attention somehow, more people in Lothering would have survived, maybe, I can't know that for sure," Daylen explained.

"What about Ostagar, could that have gone differently?" Carver asked.

"So many people had choices to make that day, King Cailan, Duncan, Loghain, even I had choices to make that could have changed several people's lives, if I could have done something I would have cousin."

"Don't call me," Carver shook his head, obviously fighting back a tear. "Mother will want to meet you," he said as he walked away.

"Carver," Daylen called out to his cousin, but he was already far away.

He looked to Bethany, who was still smiling despite her twin's attitude. She wrapped her arms around Daylen, resting her head against his chest. The contact shocked Daylen slightly, his arms drifted in the air around Bethany's back. Slowly, Daylen rested his hands on the small of her back.

"I never thought I'd get the chance to actually meet you, properly," Bethany said.

"I'm glad to have met you too," Daylen whispered.

Hugging Bethany felt very right, and that little bit of doubt Daylen had felt began to fade.

* * *

Marian sat at her work table, her little space in Gamlen's shack. The small table had underneath it, a chest for storing excess items she gathered. Often Marian would find letters put onto the table as well. She had received letters from old friends in Lothering, and even potential employers. Her reputation was beginning to precede her. But other than holding letters, Marian also used the table for making arrows. She ran her dagger across the wood, carving it into the perfect straight shape for a projectile. Alongside the wood, Marian also shaped the heads of the arrows.

"You're good at that Marian, have you ever thought of applying it to basket weaving?" Leandra asked.

Marian turned away from her work, raising her eyebrows as she looked at her mother.

"Basket weaving? Seriously?" she asked.

"What's wrong with weaving?" Leandra asked.

"I'm not going to sit and knit, weave, whatever wives do," Marian said.

"I was a wife once, and weaving baskets put food on the table when we didn't have the land to grow food," Leandra explained.

"I get that mother but I'm different."

"Because you're a soldier? There is no war to fight Marian, there are other ways to provide for us," Leandra stepped back as Marian got off her chair.

"I'm a fighter mother, there's always a fight to have, always someone who needs somebody to stand up for them. My cousin did that, through the blight and running from Loghain's men, he was always fighting for other people, I've got no right to do anything less than he has," Marian explained.

"You are not your cousin, you never will be your cousin," Leandra said.

"Yeah well I can damn well try to be, maker, I'll be better than him in every way, when people here the name Marian Hawke, they'll think Marian Hawke, not the cousin of Daylen Amell but Marian Hawke!"

Marian and Leandra quickly turned to the door, hearing someone sneeze behind it. Gamlen was snoring in his room, he'd been asleep for the past few hours. The front door opened, revealing Carver and Bethany.

"Where have you two been?" Leandra asked.

"We've been fine," Carver said, walking into the shack.

"Mother, you'll never guess who we found," Bethany smiled as she walked in.

She looked happier than Marian remembered her being in months. That hadn't gone unnoticed by her mother, who smiled as well. Then the third arrival entered, rubbing his nose. He was a few inches taller than Carver, wearing a set of navy blue clothes, they obviously doubled as practical and formal wear (unless you were Orlesian). His skin had a natural tan to it, and his brown hair hinted some kind of Rivaini ancestry. But then Marian saw his red eyes, eyes she saw once before, only a year ago.

"Hello cousin," the young man said.

The gasp didn't come from Marian. She turned to her mother, who looked at the young man in shock. Leandra's hands shook as they moved towards him. He took her hands, holding them softly as he smiled.

"Leandra, time has only made you more beautiful," he said.

Her eyes went red as tears began to drip downwards. But they were not the tears Marian often saw in her mother. Not since the birth of her siblings had Marian ever seen her mother cry tears of joy.

"We always thought you would look like uncle when you grew up, I do not see it in your face," Leandra touched his cheeks, running her fingers across his chin.

Tears were beginning to form in his eyes too, but he still smiled, especially as Leandra wrapped her arms across his chest.

"Revka, for so long she wondered, whether or not you would be happy, or even alive. But I knew, I knew you would do something great, I knew you would do something she and uncle would be proud of," she rested her head against his chest and let her tears gush out.

Daylen rested his right hand on Leandra's head, and his left against her back. He closed his eyes and hugged her tightly.

"I hoped for so long, that I would find some reason to come here, that I'd found some hope that our family hadn't completely gone off the map," he said. "I doubted for so long, but now I don't, seeing you, its restored my resolve."

He pushed Leandra back slightly and wiped his eyes. Bethany held her mother's hand as Marian looked at her cousin in awe. Daylen again bought a hand to his head, feeling more tears. The doubt that plagued him was gone, the memories were clear. All those times he spent with his friends flashed before his eyes. Whenever Wynn lectured him, he felt as if he was with his mother. When Loghain taught him how to fight, and spoke with him about tactics and morality, he sometimes wondered if that was what it was like to have a father, and it reminded him of the times he spent with his grandfather. The bonds he formed with Alistair, and Zevran, Oghren, Nathaniel, all of the friends and allies he made, those fun times, those times they helped one another through their struggles, they slowly became his brothers and sisters. All of those moments were cherished by Daylen, but they paled in comparison to the joy he felt as he hugged his mother's cousin.

"I'm finally home!"

Next Chapter 8: Plans

* * *

Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter, this was my favourite moment of the fic so far. I edited earlier chapters a little, to make Daylen look like what he does in Resurrection, for the fic his 'out of armour' outfit and general appearance had some inspiration from Kirei Kotomine from the Fate/Zero series.

Lord Hydian and his family will be some of the main antagonists in the chapters to come, I wanted to give a face and personality to the slavers, the Hydian family, appearance wise and in some ways personality wise was inspired by the Lannisters from Game of Thrones. The look of their Tevinter ally was inspired by Yennefer from the Witcher series.


	9. Chapter 8: Plans

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age

_Italics represent flashbacks_

This first chapter is the first to include insert music :)

* * *

Rise of the Hawks: Reunion

Chapter 8: Plans

The prodigal son had returned, if there was ever a time for the Hawke family to celebrate, they had a day for it. People who were familiar with Marian, were surprised by her chirpier attitude, surprised when her mother walked the markets, accompanied by a Mabari and actually smiling. Varric smiled as he wrote the details down, the reunion of a family, and he was a witness to it. Daylen provided Bethany and Carver with some coin, more coin than they had carried in their entire lives. Marian never mentioned her business with Batrand, or the coin they had to raise, the day wasn't about her or her future, but about the family. Likewise, Daylen and the twins remained silent over who Gamlen had sold the estate to. As his family members prepared for the night, Daylen spent the day gathering what Intel he could. Wrapped in a cloak and hood, he walked through Hightown, getting a better view on things than he had before. The old Amell estate had begun to age, so much so, that Daylen suspected Lord Hyelian only bought the estate for his operations. He looked up at the keep as well, and then towards the Chantry. It was still the image of the day he left Kirkwall, the day his fate had been changed forever.

'I see Leandra isn't the only one to have aged well,' Daylen thought as he approached the Chantry.

Grand Cleric Elthina, Daylen couldn't remember whether she had been anything different. The Chantry robes in Kirkwall certainly differed from what he had seen in Ferelden. They were less baggy, with an additional black robe, worn like a coat. Elthina seemed as strong and firm as she had been in the past, the old woman was confronting an armoured archer at the board.

"The Chantry cannot condone revenge," she said, her tone almost begging the young man.

"It is my right, my duty, to ensure that there is nowhere in the Free Marches these assassins can hide," there was a righteous fury in his voice, enhanced by his strong native Starkhaven accent.

The young man was an image of fine grooming, a clear chin, well trimmed hair and clean skin. His armour was custom made, grey mail and white plates with gold trimming around the edges. A perfectly curved bow was strapped to his back, along with a quiver full of arrows.

"This is murder," the cleric ripped the poster off of the board, just as the young man walked away.

The man's speed took Daylen by surprise, it took mere seconds for him to draw his bow, knock back an arrow and release it. It swept the poster out of Elthina's hand, and pinned it back on its original place.

"No," he said, his frown deep and tone harsh. "What happened to my family, was murder!"

The archer began walking away, and the cleric, perhaps in defeat kept the poster on the board. Once Elthina had gone, Daylen walked over to the board. He looked at the request, the hand writing was clear but a little rough, just as the man's walk had been. Clearly he was royalty, but hadn't spent much time in comfort. As Daylen read the poster, the man's background and plight became clear. He was Sebastian Vael, the youngest son of the ruling Vael family of Starkhaven. Or they at least used to be the rulers, the poster detailed their recent murder. A mercenary company had murdered the main family, right down to the smallest child and lowest servant.

'A massacre, and the possible locations of the company have been provided, is Sebastian a mastermind? Or is he the one falling for a plot?' Daylen wondered.

He read of the company, the Flint company wasn't very well known, which meant either it was new and up and coming? Or its performance was so mediocre it didn't warrant a strong reputation. Either way, Daylen intended to find where these men were. He began making his way back to the Hanged man. His stride stopped as he saw a contingent of templars moving towards the chantry. Leading them was a woman he instantly recognised. His eyes flashed, and a fire flared inside him. Gripping his hand, Daylen stood aside, playing the beggar and raising his hand, as if to accept coin. The woman's lieutenant shoved him aside.

"Move Fereldan," he said.

The assumption was only partly true. Daylen looked towards the Knight-Commander, she had barely acknowledged him before she moved onto the Chantry. Meredith certainly stood out from other Templars. Greagoir was recognised by face and reputation, his armour was no different from the other men he led. Meredith however wore heavily customised armour, lacking the baggy robes of the Chantry. The sunburst symbol was on the crown she wore on her hood, which was small enough to show her face. She was taller than most women Daylen had met, her face was clear of scars but hardened, the frown on her face seemed set. Years of service to the Chantry, to the templar mission had shaped her into a merciless leader.

'I wonder what she would think of one of the noble families dabbling in slavery, with Tevinter,' Daylen thought.

Forgetting the hanged man, Daylen made his way to one of the alleyways. There were good spots on the wall to use for climbing. Gripping the cracks and stepping off of lantern holders, Daylen climbed and jumped onto the opposing ledge. He pulled himself onto the rooftops and began making his way to where the Amell branch family kept their estate. No one watched the rooftops, in fact, the guards wouldn't even look up. They were completely oblivious, and ignorant of the possibility someone could climb the roofs. He spotted four ways to get into the keep from the rooftops alone. But he didn't go anywhere near the Viscount's keep. His eyes remained set on his former home.

Fausten had not been as set in tradition as Aristide. The demands on the servants, to maintain a spotless estate, had not been great. The gardens however had been beautiful, but not overcrowded. He remembered fondly a tree, the seeds had been taken by their ancestors long ago, the branches produced the softest and most beautiful petals Kirkwall knew. Daylen remembered his uncle once referred to it as a sakura tree. But poking his head out of cover, looking down at the garden, Daylen saw no Sakura tree. What remained of it was a mound of flowers, beautiful, but simple. They would be torn out in a mere year and replaced.

His focus shifted away from what the garden had become, to the children playing in it. They were petting an Orlesian poodle, white furred and well groomed. It was kicking its legs, enjoying the touch of the children's hands on its belly. The dog was probably a novelty, something to distract the children. Loghain once said they paled in comparison to Mabari. True, they were not as strong, but they were quick and as good at tracking. Most dogs could hunt something, even small ones would make good mousers, or hunt rabbit, it all depended on the training, the upbringing. Humans were similar, the children wore fine clothes, much finer clothes than any Daylen had ever worn. The sleeves were baggy, the collars tight. A little girl emerged wearing a pink dress with gold embroidery. She picked up a nearby stick and began playing with her little brother, leaving the third to play with the dog. They began smacking sticks together, playing at sword fighting. The three were smiling, but they seemed hollow, like they only enjoyed one another's company and looked forward to little else. The middle child seemed to be simple, Daylen could see it in the shape of the boy's eyes, and the little attention to anything other than the dog.

"HA, FINALLY!" he heard someone bellow from inside the home.

Another child emerged, a year or two older than the others. He must have been the oldest, clad in clothing that would've suited an older man more. The gold cloak on his shoulder, the fine belts and polished leather shoes, they were all worn to make the boy look noble. But Daylen could see it in his eyes, the veined nobility, the sense of entitlement. He imagined he was looking at a younger version of Rendon Howe. Someone who felt they deserved more, and had the right to be vicious for the fun of it.

'There it is,' Daylen thought as the boy's eyes shifted.

His gaze turned cruel as he looked at his younger siblings play fighting. The grip he had on the sword he was carrying tightened. Previously, the boy had brandished it like a toy. The hilt of the blade was gold, with jewels placed within it. But the blade itself was professionally forged, Dragonbone, you had to go to a high classed blacksmith to get it, or have slain a dragon yourself. It was obvious which one the boy had gone for, but the sword itself had been denied its purpose. It was both a status symbol, and the tool of a bully.

"Heirgon," A woman spoke from the doorway.

Daylen shifted a bit, adjusting his hiding spot. He looked towards the woman as she entered the garden. She was older than Leandra, though the noble lifestyle had given her a more youthful appearance, that lacked the charm Leandra had. The noblewoman had a shallow beauty, one enhanced by her eyes. Her eyes spoke of a contempt for all things beneath her, which to a degree included her children. She didn't even acknowledge her middle child, barely acknowledged her younger children. But for her oldest child, Heirgon, he seemed to be her entire world.

"It has finally arrived, all of Kirkwall will fear me with this blade, and when I go to court my standing will be even greater," Heirgon said.

His voice even held a faked nobility, just like many Daylen had seen in Orlais.

"You will not be sent to Orlais yet Heirgon, you still have much to learn, Ferelden however," his mother spoke with such praise, a praise the boy hadn't earned. "Their ways are simple, upfront, your intellect will impress as will your name."

"Then I can begin to charm the Queen," Heirgon grinned.

It took some self control for Daylen not to laugh. The thought of Anora falling for anyone's charms was laughable, especially the charms of a lizard like child like him.

"Alas, the dreadful woman refuses to seek a prince consort," the woman shook her head in disdain.

"Prince-consort, I would be a king and nothing less," Heirgon said.

"Of course my boy, you were born to rule, I have it on good authority that the De Lancet's son will soon go off to the tower. Without an heir, they will agree to a marriage arrangement."

"Is the De Lancet girl pretty?" Heirgon asked.

"Yes, pretty, but naive, treat her well Heirgon, but remember she has a place."

"Of course mother, she'll be my entry into the Orlesian court, whilst father will get me into the Fereldan's good graces."

"They won't be impressed by your sword," the middle child said, continuing to stroke the dog.

Heirgon's eyes shifted towards his brother.

"And what would you know of blades Targon?" he demanded.

"In Ferelden, they do not revere a single blade, but multiple blades held by one man. Vigilance, Starfang, the Green blade, Dragonbrand, Yusaris, Warden's Reach and Companion, Kallak, the Winter Blade, Gift of the grey, Twin Blade..."

"Enough, half of those are the borrowed or stolen weapons given names by others," Heirgon said.

"But they were made famous by Daylen Amell," Targon retorted.

"Enough, ignore him my dear," the woman said, rubbing Heirgon's shoulder and kissing the back of his head.

"I'm leaving," Heirgon huffed, walking back into the house.

As he did, another member of the family emerged. Draped in full gold armour, possessing the same blonde hair and blue eyes the other members of the family had. He carried himself with pride, his expression and stance showing the upmost confidence. A sword was strapped to his hip, not a decorated or jewel monstrosity like what Heirgon had, but a practical blade meant to carry out its purpose.

"Indeed, Daylen Amell is a man to be feared, if also respected as well," the man said.

"Aidan, don't tell me you have begun to grow soft," the woman said.

"Dear sister, how could I? I am the hand of our family after all, but there is something about that young man, something unique, a mage whom wields a blade, a circle slave whom abhors the chantry, a knight who follows the oaths only he has spoken, a warden who refuses to sacrifice, some say that he is the pure example of what a hero should be," Aidan, the 'enforcer' of his family spoke with an admiration veiled by his humoured tone.

Daylen knew that the man was mocking him in a way, but perhaps also praising him. Aidan's sister, a seemingly practical woman simply smirked in annoyance. She kissed her daughter's head and ushered both her and Targon inside. Then she stood and regarded her brother for a moment, he was smirking at her, clearly he had intended to annoy her.

"He is a fool whom coddles the weak, I hear he took the old Arl's residence in Denerim, and simply gave it to the alienage elves," she said.

"Indeed, he is generous and just," a voice spoke from inside the house.

Lord Hydian himself emerged, allowing Daylen a better view of his face this time. His expression was stern, in some ways a lot like Meredith's. If he had been a warrior once Daylen could not tell, for he wore fine clothes befitting a noble, black with gold buttons and embroidery across the shirt, though Daylen couldn't see what kind of patterns they formed. Age had begun taking its toll, he had been probably just a few years younger than Daylen's grandfather had been, his children were in their forties, he was probably reaching mid sixties. His children, each of them had been the result of an arranged marriage and early pregnancies. Though there was perhaps love in the marriage, it was too early to see if there was only ice in Lord Hydian's heart.

"So generous and just that after the incident at Amaranthine was over, he resigned his command over Vigil's keep, and gave it back to the family who had ruined Amaranthine in the first place, who gave it back to the wardens with a political agenda," he explained, looking at his daughter at first and then turning to his son. "Tell me Aidan," he said, as if he was still a child to be lectured.

"Was it just of him to abandon his people? Even when they were begging for him to come back?"

That wasn't exactly how it went, Daylen felt like yelling it out to the man. But he knew people's misconceptions about him were a result of his mistakes, their judgement was his accepted punishment. He had failed the people of Amaranthine when he had been forced to kill rioters, all they wanted was food. His advisors all believed that if he had shown weakness and opened the coffers he would only have inspired future rebellions. He tried to reach the people of Amaranthine through words alone, but he had failed and they attacked him. When the mother's forces invaded Vigil, the defence was greater because the soldiers had been strengthened by a healthy and balanced meal, something soldiers required especially in war time. But his failure had been in not finding a better way.

"When Arl Eamon marched on the capital, he intended to put a bastard prince, a pawn king onto the throne. And yet immediately upon rescuing Anora Mac Tir, the daughter of his enemy, Daylen Amell endorsed her as the sole monarchy, and spared Loghain and drove away the ruler he would have been capable of controlling."

He felt that rage again, like a fire inside him, begging to consume this entire house in flame. This man misconceptions were made out of assumptions on his character. Alistair had left because he chose to, Daylen didn't want him to go, he would never appoint someone he could control either, only one who was worthy of ruling. Alistair would have made a good king, Daylen knew this with all his being. But he also knew that Alistair didn't want it, in some ways that made him even more worthy. Anora however was already known, she wanted to rule and she was wise, the true ruler whilst Cailan played war games.

What truly made him want to burn the Hydian's to the ground was the head's assumptions about Loghain. That in some ways he made a mistake in offering redemption instead of punishment. There were two things Daylen regretted, that came about as a result of that decision. The act of mercy was one thing Daylen would never regret or take back, even if it meant the two things he most regretted never happening. He certainly wouldn't take it back for this man's approval.

"He could have went back to the circle, have been First enchanter within a few years, he could have become a diplomat for Ferelden, have played the Orlesian game finely and won it even. But alas he's chosen the path of a vagabond, a wanderer, helping a single person everywhere he goes. He's in some ways like his grandfather," Lord Hydian said.

That caught Daylen's attention, he looked closely, curiously regarding the expression on the man's face. It was not admiration, but pity, something he wouldn't have expected from a slaver.

"I met the man once, Fausten, not Daylen. He and I duelled at his son's fourteenth birthday, he was impressive with a blade truly, left a scar from my collar bone to my chest. Instead of leaving me to die he begged the circle to heal me, cared for you both personally and even praised my endurance when people tried to praise him."

There was a moment of silence, Hydian's daughter smirked, and his son lowered his head. One thought of a joke, the other thought regret. Then Hydian rose his head and spoke.

"When he came to me, asking me about his nephew's selling of the deed, when he found out exactly what we were using his brother's old estate for, he threatened me. My men had to stab him six times for him to fall down, he took a spear to the gut, until the end he was the knight of the Amell family, the compassionate fool whose throat was cut by the man who saved his life."

Daylen did not gasp, he did not scream or curse the Hydian name. His face remained a blank mask, concealing the pain welling up inside him. He walked away, climbing back down to the streets below.

(Play Aimer-Last Stardust)

_He was a child, his child in a way. Fausten stood on his balcony, holding his greatest achievement. All of the victories and praises of fame meant nothing, for his grandchild was what he valued most. His grandchild, the boy loved by every member of his family. Aristide chided him for allowing his daughter to love a man with no name or title, but upon seeing the child was enchanted. Damion raced back to the city to condemn and taunt the boy, but came to cherish him as well. Fausten stood tall and held his grandchild high._

_"MY GRANDSON! DAYLEN AMELL!" he roared, louder than any battle cry he had let out before._

Daylen trotted with his horse across the coast, recalling where Flint company had been reported. He was home, his cousins were alive, everyone of them. Yet still questions had remained unanswered, what became of his mother and uncle? Had he brothers and sisters out in the world? He had the answer to what had happened to his grandfather, and he still wished it remained a mystery.

_He was a child, enjoying life and the innocence of that life. Innocence so great that Fausten could train him, make it a game, make him drunk on tales of heroes and adventures. The boy was quick, and Fausten could see in his movements that he had the makings of not just a fighter, but a master of fighting methods. Fausten laughed as he knocked Daylen back, the sticks they were using were near to breaking, but still Daylen kept on fighting._

_"Hold the blade a little lower, you need to be able to adjust to a high guard and low guard instantly," he told the boy._

_"Like you are now," Daylen said, striking Fausten's groin._

_He clutched the area, falling into a heap and veining such great pain. Daylen immediately dropped his stick and rushed to him in concern. Fausten quickly grabbed him and began to tickle him._

_"Never drop your guard young knight," he said._

The Sabrae clan looked at the bodies of dead humans and saw among them a single man standing up. His forehead was cut, blood ran down his right eye and his right arm had also taken a strike.

"By the maker," Faharel shot a look at Pol, despite using the wrong deity, he shared his fellow elf's shock.

The Shemlen was looking down, the elves could see that there were tears in the man's eyes.

"We should leave, right now," Faharel said.

_"Damn you Perrin, DAMN YOU!" Fausten yelled as he searched the debris._

_The viscount's battle with the templars had come to the streets. Fireballs from the tower had set several buildings alight. Fausten knew his friend's intention was never to get the people involved, but involved they were. He was throwing aside bits of rubble, Revka and Daylen had been at the market when a stray fireball slammed into one of the buildings. Revka had been taken aside by one of Fausten's servants._

_"Maker please, maker please," he muttered as he kept on burrowing._

_He threw aside a piece of debris and saw what he was looking for. His grandchild, his proud and joy, bruised and dirty, but not broken._

_"Maker thank you, thank you, thank goodness," tears ran down Fausten's eyes as he put Daylen's hand to his face, it was warm, like a candle._

Had it been a blessing? Or a curse? Daylen remembered that day and the day afterwards. Blood magic hadn't been the first spell that he used, he had unknowingly shaped fire and repaired flesh. His own desire not to die? Or perhaps his grandfather's prayers? Leliana might say that the maker himself had reawakened the magic within him. Morrigan perhaps would say that he was simply strong, that his strong desire to survive triggered something that would ensure his survival. His magic, his anger, and his sense of honour and righteousness. These were all things some would consider his undoing. Perhaps one day they would be.

"Who the hell are you? What are you doing here?"

He looked at the members of Flint company, they were still giving out the spoils from the Vael massacre. The locket of a girl, Daylen could sense the connection through the fade. He knew that belonged to a sister of Sebastian. The bow, his grandfather's, a warrior like Daylen's own grandfather. Perhaps the two knew each other, the mercenaries had simply cast it aside, as if the weapon was no longer of use.

"Well? Who the fuck are you?" one of them asked.

"You killed the Vael family," Daylen asked no questions.

"Yeah, so what if we did? They were half dead already, although the little girl livened up when we got her on the ground," the man laughed.

Daylen immediately grabbed the man's head. There would be no blades today, no show of skill or martial arts. Just the mercenaries suffering the brunt of Daylen's greatest power. The mercenaries watched as Daylen melted their leader's face.

"FUCK! IT'S A MAGE!" one of them yelled.

The rage that had been boiling within Daylen finally came out.

_Daylen had been crying, that much Fausten knew. It would be their last time they would get to see one another. But there was none of the hope Fausten felt before, Daylen's face showed a maturity and anger unnatural for a child._

_"None of it was true was it?" Daylen asked._

_"About what?"_

_"The stories you told me, about heroes?"_

_Fausten looked away for a moment, and then leant against the cell._

_"People's views of a hero, they are not like they are in the stories, people can be cruel and sometimes it takes a cruel thing to be a hero. That's the truth Daylen, the truth is that a hero is only ever capable of saving one life, salvation can only come to a select group, because it comes at the expense of others," Fausten explained._

_Daylen looked down for a moment, as if processing what Fausten had told him. It was a harsh truth, but not the whole truth and that day, Fausten saw one of two things in his grandchild. A foolish determination, and a hopeful one, that was all determination ever was. There were always different parts of the truth._

_"Fine then, I'll do it," he said._

_Fausten looked at his grandchild and the sheer will in his eyes. It was if the boy had already become a man._

_"I'll become a hero, I'll find a salvation that applies to everyone, I won't choose to help one over the other and the only compromise I will make is my own. If it's just a contradiction of what people believe, of what people like in a hero, then I'll crush that view of a hero, and their views on salvation."_

_"Daylen, choosing to help everyone, it's not natural, it's not possible, especially if you're in a tower. And even if you're not, it'll be a life filled brimming with self inflicted misery and hypocrisy," Fausten said._

_"Then I'll strive to do it, even if I live the miserable life of a hypocrite, I will strive to be a hero!"_

Hours later, Sebastian Vael was approached by a man in a hood. He gave him a medallion and a bow, his grandfather's bow. Sebastian looked at the weapon in awe, and then to the man, who simply began to walked away.

"Wait, I promise you stranger, I will find a way to reward you for this, I promise you a royal fortune," he said.

"There's a home for orphans that's been quite neglected, save the money for them, also remind the grand cleric of her duties," Daylen said.

He continued to walk onwards, ignoring the thanks he was given. As he walked onto the raining streets of Kirkwall, he felt freed, reminded of what he had set out to do. His family's city was more than just the keep and the harbours and the estates. The people, noble and commoner alike had been neglected. He looked into his pouch, at the small fortune inside it. He could give it to his family, help them to take the first steps in ascending. But there would be no lesson learnt, everyone else would be left behind them. He took half and dispensed it into another pouch. The women who ran the shelter for the Ferelden's had a great shock that day.

(Stop Last Stardust)

* * *

Kaidan Hydian was awoken from his sleep by one of his most trusted messengers. Of course most trusted meant well paid. He put on his bed robes and followed the man through the corridors of his house. His daughter and grandchildren were asleep, and he was thankful for that. The sailor sitting in the basement was covered in blood and soot, he was also so terrified that he actually shook when Hydian slammed the door shut behind him. Kaidan looked to the side and saw the Tevinter woman standing there with a candle.

"What happened?" the lord asked.

"We were preparing the shipment as planned, everything was fine, the slaves were cooperative to a degree but there was no chance of them getting out," the sailor explained.

"And yet here you stand..." Kaidan waited, glaring at the scared man to draw an answer out.

"Something came onto the boat, it, no he," the man corrected himself. "He set the ship alight, threw us around like flies, broke the chains of the merchandise and then just ushered them all into a boat."

"And pray tell how did you survive this assault?" Kaidan asked.

"It, he I mean, picked me up by my ear," the sailor revealed to Kaidan his greatest wound.

Whoever had grabbed and terrified the man had hands of fire, the sailor's ear was burnt to the point that it was useless. The sailor followed Kaidan's eyes as they drifted towards the Tevinter woman. She walked over to the man, touching his ear. He yelled from the mere pain of the touch. But then the woman placed her hand on his ear and blew into it. The burn marks glowed green as the skin began to turn to its natural form.

"What did he say?" she asked, gripping the man's chin.

"I know what you have done, and I know what you are planning, I have taken the liberty of freeing these slaves, free the others you have and leave Kirkwall with your family, if you do that will be the end of it, but if you don't, if you continue this trade of slaves, if you continue to beat down on the helpless and dominate the hopeless then I will tear your organisation apart. I believe in second chances Lord Hydian, Loghain did something incredible with his second chance, I dare you to do the same, but know this, I do not believe in third chances!"

It had been as if Daylen Amell himself had spoken. The Tevinter woman smirked, as if excited by the challenge. Kaidan however turned back to the door.

"The prodigal son has returned," she said.

"He claims to know what we're planning, if he did he wouldn't try to stop us," Kaidan said.

"Oh please, you don't give a damn about the city anymore than I do Lord Hydian, at least be honest about why you agreed to my master's offer."

The sailor looked between the two nobles, unsure of where this argument was going. He widened his eyes as the woman suddenly kissed him. Her lips were cold, almost like ice, even her tongue had a sharp touch on his gums. She moaned as his arms flailed about and his skin turned blue. His muffled screams stopped as ice covered his face. Kaidan turned and watched as the woman pushed the sailor, leaving his head to shatter, and his brain matter to coat the floor.

"Was that necessary?" he asked.

"He was an honest man, or as honest as a slaver could get, the boy let him live because he knew if anyone were likely to run away from this business it would be him. Those kinds of people are dangerous, besides you're one to talk about necessity after what you had done to his grandfather," she explained.

"That was nothing personal, this is nothing personal," Kaidan said.

"So he hasn't scared you away?"

"Of course not, he wants to send a message, then so will I, 100 sovereigns should be enough to motivate Meeran's frightened men, and I think we'll need a crow to send a message to that drunkard fool Gamlen," Lord Hydian explained.

The Tevinter woman hung her head back and laughed.

"Oh lord Hydian you are cute, especially when you think you have all the answers you ruthless bastard," she said.

"How dare..."

But the man stopped as she looked him in the eyes. There was no glare, no show of her magic. The simple act of her devoting her attention to him was enough to silence him. She raised her candle and showed him the flame.

"Daylen Amell is a fire, take away his loved ones, make him suffer and you will only fuel the fire and worsen its effects. You must deal with him as you would any other fire," she blew out the flame and smiled.

Next Chapter 9: Celebration

* * *

Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter, yep the Hydians are shamelessly inspired by the Lannisters of Game of Thrones, other than just repeating what was done in the game I wanted there to be a single plotline that linked all three acts together.

The choice to use last stardust, well it just suits a hero looking back at important moments, and strengthening his resolve. The release of next chapter should coincide with the start of Christmas, the next update will hopefully be before the big day though, probably next week but its no promise, unless you guys motivate me with reviews :)


	10. Chapter 9: Celebration

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age

Merry Christmas everyone

* * *

Rise of the Hawks

Chapter 9: Celebration

Clean vegetables, perfectly prepared and seasoned meats and fine wine. The prodigal son had returned, and the Amell family intended on celebrating. Carver and Gamlen set the table, as Bethany and Leandra prepared the food. They took the time to speak finally, about how things had gone for all of them. Carver spoke of his training, the skill he had honed with the blade and his intent to make a name for himself with that skill. Gamlen in turn talked about Fausten and Damion Amell, both warriors with a varied reputation. He spoke of their short comings, but also their great achievements. His own adventures even came up. Leandra spoke of her father and mother, their grace and wisdom, and of how she met Malcolm. But there was no reason for her to despair anymore, as if she had learnt to walk with the grief of her love's death.

Marian could see that her family was happy again, and part of her wondered whether that happiness would be taken from them. She walked outside to find Varric waiting for her. The dwarf had a grin on his face, and gestured to the people running on the streets. Marian followed his gaze, seeing that the people were Ferelden from the accents she heard. They walked through the intricate corridors of Low town, excitement across their faces. When they reached one of the warehouses, they joined the piles of refugees that were walking into it. Marian curiously regarded the warehouse, it was old and unused, falling apart somewhat. But there were men working on the areas that were unstable, replacing old wood and floor boards, just as workers from the Ferelden shelter gave our fresh food for the refugees.

"Excuse me," she called to a passerby. "What's happening here?"

"Someone bought this old warehouse and gave it to the shelter, it's going to be turned into an orphanage apparently," the man said before joining the line for food.

"I have it on good authority that the man who bought the deed was foreign," Varric said.

"Yeah," Marian said, turning to the dwarf.

"Yeah, and incredibly happy with his investment."

"Why would anyone be happy about giving something away?" Marian asked.

"I don't know, apparently he waved at the good authority and smiled," Varric shrugged.

"So basically he saw your spy watching him?"

"Marian Hawke, me employ spies?" the dwarf held up his hands in a barely scripted defence, "Spy is such a deadly and official term, my friends are passerby, concerned citizens and occasional gossips, who I occasionally loan money to and they pay me back with their continued company," he explained.

"So you basically pay them for information?"

"Oh Marian, you don't need to pay people to talk, every time I go into a room there seems to be a useful piece of information waiting, hell after a while you'll get the same information."

"So Varric, what did your friends find out about this foreign man, other than the fact he's a nice man?" Marian asked.

"That he was last seen at a ship owned by the Hydians, and that he's paid a visit to several struggling businesses, all of whom were being shook down by gangs within the city," Varric explained.

"This man, I think we both know who he is," Marian said.

She looked at the new shelter and smiled.

"You know, he could have funded the expedition," Varric said, sighing slightly in disappointment.

"I know, but I think he wanted to spend his coin on something that helped people," Marian turned and began a walk back to Gamlen's shack.

"That cousin of yours, I don't think I can agree with or even admire how he so easily throws aside coin, and I'm sure others, less reasonable people won't either," Varric suddenly explained, his voice devoid of its usual tone.

It was a tone Marian was unfamiliar with hearing from the dwarf, he was actually concerned. Probably not for Daylen, but those whom were close to him. But then Marian didn't know who else was close to him, other than she and her family, and even they had only briefly been reunited. Which begged the question, who else did Daylen Amell cherish?

* * *

Bella remembered something that once happened to her. It was a night where the dead rose up and butchered the living. She heard people in the hanged man sometimes talk about that night, how the town defended itself. But they had no real idea of just how hard it had been, how big the undead horde had been. There was no real warning, the people of Redcliffe never had reason to be cautious of danger. Then the dead came, killing off those who worked at the windmill first. A young man had run into the tavern, his face bleeding and half of his arm hanging off.

"MONSTERS RUN!" he had said, and people thought he was playing some kind of joke.

It was only when the screams started that people realised what was happening. No time to wonder or ask for an explanation, people ran as fast as they could. Bella however was grabbed by Lloyd and dragged into the basement. Despite how much of a pig he could be, Lloyd hadn't done anything to her that night. But it was still frightening, hearing people scream, hearing the crashing down of doors. Then there was the tapping above them, and both Bella and Lloyd nearly suffocated gripping their mouths so tightly. They didn't know it was morning until someone called out to them.

* * *

Bella hid through the night, but Bevin ran, with his mother and sister. It had been a regular day in the house really, Bevin's mother lectured his sister about finding a man, he looked at the chest grandfather's sword was in and dreamt of slaying dragons. But then the screaming started, Bevin's mother went outside to see what was going on. Kaitlyn went outside and then came running in, grabbing Bevin and dragging him out of the door. Their mother was bleeding, and they saw a man lying on the ground. He had an axe that had been used for cutting wood, imbedded in his chest.

"We have to get to the chantry," their mother told them.

Those were the last words she spoke, except for the scream when the man got back up and bit her. Then she told them to go, ordered them to run as the undead monster dragged her by her feet. Bevin never saw what had been done to his mother, but it scarred him. Kaitlyn cried more than he did, in at times, to Bevin, it seemed that Kaitlyn mourned for their mother more than him. But the day after, when Teagan gathered the militia, Bevin wandered out of the chantry. He'd seen the damage the undead had done to the houses, and the bodies being gathered by the chantry priests. His mother's hadn't been among them, he'd looked at every body before it was sown into a bag. Night passed again, and there was a warning this time, the dead had increased in numbers and their eyes seemed to glow, as if the magic that had been used on them was stronger than ever. As men fought outside the chantry, Bevin and Kaitlyn held one another close. He thought it would be the last time he'd feel fear. Then the day came, and everyone saw that the bodies of their loved ones were gone.

It was an army that would grow in size, the dead of Redcliffe would rise again and again to burn the town. Bella believed it would become routine for them to flee to the chantry or the basement whenever the dead came marching down. Bevin considered taking up the green blade and fighting with the other men, but was consumed by the fear. Both hid in their own way, and lost what hope they had. But then something happened, Daylen Amell came to Redcliffe.

* * *

Bevin remembered that time as he looked at his sword. He truly could call the green blade his sword now. Daylen had taught him something very important that day, and continued to teach him every day after. But today wasn't a day for teaching, it was a day for Bevin to figure things out by himself. He knew he needed to get more training, and gain firsthand experience as part of an organised military. Though he was surprised to find that he could go into the keep with his sword, and just walk into the guard barracks.

"Excuse me, where is the guard captain's office?" he asked one of the guards, a man with neck length brown hair.

"Door on the left there son," he said.

He walked towards the office, tapping the door as he entered. The guard captain was sitting at his desk, wearing the black gambeson (under armour clothes) of the Kirkwall guard. He was a grey haired man, with one or two scars on his face and fixed comfortably to his chair. The man seemed to have gained some weight, enough to still fit in armour, though he had a full goblet of wine on his desk. He tied a set of documents together and put them into a satchel. Bevin noted the contents, official documents, correspondences between nobles, guard rotations and other important things. The guard captain finally noticed his guest and frowned at him.

"What the hell do you want boy?" he asked.

"Sir, I wanted to apply for a position in the guard," Bevin said.

The guard captain laughed, banging his hand against the desk.

"Have you swung that sword yet? Come back when you're a little older, then I can tell you to fuck off again," the man snorted.

"Sir, I want to help the guard, even if it's just as a steward I want to help," Bevin said.

"You've already helped lad, you've made me laugh."

"But..."

"I SAID FUCK OFF!"

Bevin backed away from the door, lowering his head as he turned away. His grip on his sword tightened as he walked up to the keep's main hall. He suddenly bumped into a cloaked man, who gripped his arm tightly.

"Where you successful?" Bevin was shocked, and relieved to see that it as Daylen.

But then he remembered the disappointing results of his efforts. Daylen noticed the boy's eyes drift to the ground, and tilted his chin up.

"Don't be so eager to join an army, or even to fight, keep training and improving yourself, but most of all enjoy your youth. If you want to help others go to the shelter for the refugees, there you'll find people worth helping, and friends worth making," the mage explained.

Bevin nodded his head, and he couldn't help but shed a tear. Even today, Daylen was helping him down the right path.

* * *

Daylen had done it before, when he came to Redcliffe. The village was not in ruins, but it was not the grand spectacle it would have been, had the dead not come back. He came to get help from Arl Eamon, but the situation in Redcliffe made him stop, though he would have stopped to help anyway. Working his way through the village, and assigning his companions to certain tasks, the grey warden prepared the village to 'save itself' as he said to the blacksmith. All he did was point out everything they needed to help themselves, good wood for the barricade, fine weapons prepared by a semi-sober smith, and a unified militia. But through all that he did something that shocked some of his companions, he offered to help a girl find her little brother. That's when Bevin first met Daylen.

"Is someone in there?" Daylen had asked, knocking lightly against the wardrobe door.

Bevin hid on the other side of that door, hugging his knees and looking at the door fearfully. When he heard the unassuming (and not at all frightening) voice of Daylen, he regained a little bit of his courage.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, "This isn't your house, get out," he demanded.

Yet still his voice quivered.

"Are you Kaitlyn's brother? Bevin, Kaitlyn's at the chantry sick with worry," a voice spoke, Orlesian and clearly a woman.

"I don't want to go back there, if I go back there Kaitlyn will cry and talk about mother, the priests will offer prayer, and that didn't help mother before...I hate it there, I hate it," Bevin said.

The terror and fear in his voice was obvious, but so too was the sorrow. He had watched his mother be dragged away, and could only assume she had become part of the Undead. It was a violation to her, as bad as rape, for her will to be defiled after death. Simply imagining what was done to her, what could be done to him and Kaitlyn, especially if he took up grandfather's sword, drove the courage from Bevin's heart.

"I hate the Chantry too Bevin, I can't stand being in one for more than a few minutes," Daylen laughed slightly, and Bevin heard him sit on the ground, leaning his head against the wardrobe. "But it's one of the safest places right now, you have a better chance there then in this wardrobe, why did you run out? Especially with your sister so upset."

Bevin lowered his head, what Daylen said made him think about his sister then, and he regretted not thinking of her before.

"I couldn't stop her crying, I couldn't say a damn thing, I didn't know what to say or what to do," he lowered his head.

His voice croaked and trembled because of the tears.

"Bevin, come back to the Chantry, stay long enough and you and your sister..." he heard the Orlesian woman talk but she was cut off.

Daylen had raised his hand, stopping her from speaking some kind of religious platitude. It probably would have helped, it probably would have been true even, but it wasn't what he wanted to hear.

"Keep talking Bevin, tell me why you came here," he said.

"My grandfather was a dragon slayer, we still have his sword, I thought that if I took the sword I could protect everyone," Bevin said.

"But then you came to the wardrobe," Daylen said, his voice full of understanding. "I grew up mostly in a tower, getting taught how to use magic, when it came to combat I got so scared of hurting people I ran off to hide in a wardrobe, it became a usual place for people who were scared, there was a time I couldn't go in there because someone was already hiding. Then I realised that hiding wasn't really being brave!"

"I suppose you're right," Bevin said, and sighed as he pushed against the door.

Daylen stepped away from the wardrobe and smiled at Bevin. The Orlesian was a beautiful red head, and Daylen also had a Qunari, and Alpha with him. But Bevin remained focused on the mage.

"Deciding to take up your father's sword is brave Bevin, and there's nothing wrong with a little fear too, caution keeps you smart and gives you an edge. Courage doesn't just automatically exist, it grows from fear, to be brave you have to be afraid first, it's about facing your fears. I have no doubt your grandfather was afraid Bevin, but he took up that sword and charged anyway," Daylen explained.

"Thank you, you're right," Bevin said.

"It was a good idea, I'll take it up for you Bevin, that's what I can do for you right now, the best you can do is go to your sister, you being with her helps more than you know."

Bevin gave him the sword, the green blade, it was of elven make. The Dalish would say it was stolen from a ruin, Bevin's grandfather once said it had been a gift, a mere exchange of effective weapons from one warrior to another, motivated by respect and not culture. Apparently Daylen had been mediocre with the blade, even giving it to a companion in the middle of the fight. When the night was done, a few of the defenders were dead, but the morale of the village was much greater.

"Thank you for helping me find my brother, if there's any way I can repay you..."

"No, that won't be necessary," Daylen had interrupted Kaitlyn's thanks.

Instead he took a pouch of coins and put it in her hands.

"Rebuild your home, or make a new one somewhere else, live on and don't let what happened here rule you, that's the greatest repayment you can give, that's how much the sword you gave me was worth," Daylen explained.

Kaitlyn looked at the amount she had been given in shock, it was much more than what others had deemed the blade worth. For Bevin however he crouched to his level and gave him back the blade.

"This is a good sword Bevin, one day you're going to be big enough to use it, but just remember," he said, patting him on the shoulder. "Knowing when the right time to use a blade can be a test of true courage, its only when you have something to be afraid of that you can truly be brave!"

It was the first of many lessons Bevin would learn from the man.

* * *

Daylen walked into the guard barracks, a few were checking the rotas for the patrols, but the place was generally deserted. The guard captain's office door was open, and Daylen could see the man drinking wine. He instead went to the female guard quarters. There weren't many beds there, not as many as there would be for the male guards. Daylen walked over to one of the beds, perfectly made, no personal belongings, cleaned with military precision. But there was still some things that couldn't be avoided, the pressure on the mattress from having a heavy weight (of muscle) on it, strands of ginger hair. Daylen lifted up the pillow, and put the letter he had written for Aveline underneath it.

'Time to see if Marian's judge of character is as good as you hope,' Daylen thought.

He walked a few more paces, stopping at the path that led to the Viscount's throne room. There he saw Kaidan Hydian speaking with the Viscount. Dumar let out a laugh at something the lord said, there was clearly a friendly bond between them. Daylen's eyes crept to the Viscount's office, there were guards posted there, too many for him to sneak a message in. He noticed the Viscount's assistant, a ginger haired man stood behind the viscount, his posture perfect. This was a man who handled all the affairs in the office.

'Time to see if my judge of character is as good as I hope,' Daylen thought as he walked up the steps.

Then he turned, bumping into the Seneschal, as he and the Viscount turned the corner.

"Pardon me," he said politely.

He walked away from the two men, and kept on walking. Seneschal Bran Cavin looked at the letter the hooded man had given him.

"What is that Bran?" Dumar asked.

"Nothing your grace, nothing you'd need concern yourself with," Bran continued to regard the letter curiously, even when he put it in his pocket.

* * *

When the morning came and the volunteers for the militia dined, there seemed to be a trace of normalcy. Lloyd groped her, the men talked about their day, their wives and the farming. For a moment it seemed the imminent threat had been forgotten, and Bella was able to smile. Only because she had too, she knew crying wouldn't help anyone, in fact it would only be bad for Lloyd's business, ergo it would be bad for her pay. She kept on being friendly to everyone, offering wine and the stock of what Lloyd gave for the village. But then Daylen walked into the tavern, and the atmosphere seemed to change.

"What's a smart girl like you doing in a place like this?" he asked her.

He wasn't flirting with her or mocking her, but genuinely wondering why she was there. To him a person's ability mattered, class divide was a foreign concept to him. His naiveté was attractive, and his kindness was even more so. He listened to Bella talk about her problems, he didn't complain about them or criticise her for them, the man was genuinely interested and worried for her. He'd been interested in everyone's problems, the smith's daughter being in danger, Kaitlyn's brother. His priority hadn't just been on the physical defence of the chantry, but on the hearts of the people too.

"Will you be fighting?" Bella asked him.

She noticed the red haired Orlesian, and the dark haired, sultry dressed witch glare slightly.

"Yes I will be, I've already got some experience though, and I am a mage, not that that increases my chances," he said honestly.

"I hope you'll stay safe," Bella said.

"I've got no right to keep myself any safer than the other men," he said.

That applied to the other men as well. He convinced a trio of mercenaries to fight, an elf who spied for Loghain, and even Lloyd to take up arms. Through bribery (with glory not coin), compassion and intimidation, he convinced the people who wanted nothing to do with the fight to help. By the end of the night, the mayor of Redcliffe Murdock was dead, but others had lived. People mourned, but they were happy, because they had lasted through the night. But when Bella saw Daylen, he was sitting at the bar, his hands linked together and his chin resting against them. He had clearly been crying from the shine in his eyes.

"You saved us," she said to him.

"Not everyone," Daylen said.

"I heard about Murdock, he'd been protecting the village for so long, I'd heard he had been the first to take up arms," Bella said.

"And he got killed for it," Daylen said.

"You have done something amazing around here sir, you gave people hope when we had none, that is a much greater thing than simply saving our lives," gathering her courage, she placed a kiss on the man's cheek.

Daylen blushed slightly and smiled. He looked at his open palm, and suddenly squeezed it into a fist. No more people in Redcliffe would die if he could help it. That was his oath, and he carried that oath out when he went to the castle.

* * *

Fereldans were not a common sight in the Hanged man. But those who did have the coin to drink weren't drinking today. Even people local or regular weren't in the tavern. Except for Isabela of course, she had work to do, precious drink to catch up on and contacts to establish. Her night with the big woman had left her sore, but exhilarated, and for once she was the one left in her bed with questions. But that curiosity shifted, from her priority interest in Kirkwall, to what was going on around her. The people she expected to be revelling were gone, and Corff the barkeep was nearly pulling his hair out. Norah the barmaid was carrying on business as usual, and the new girl Bella, well Isabela liked her from the start. Collecting the cups from their small amount of clients, Bella moved with total confidence.

"Where are they? Maker they never miss this time to drink," Corff said.

Isabela saw a smile cross Bella's face, a knowing smile, a proud smile, and one that told Isabela she knew exactly where the clients were. The former pirate queen looked at her cup, considering a refill. Curiosity itched at her, she would put the cup down, pick it up, and then put it down again. She'd raise a hand to call for Corff, but then she'd lower it. She damned her curiosity, her silly and childish curiosity. But it kept picking at her mind, kept vexing her, she needed to know what was going on.

"Shit," she muttered.

It had defeated her, she put down the cup and went for the door.

"Damn, not you too," Corff snarled, and Bella put a hand to her mouth, trying to stop herself from laughing.

* * *

Gamlen's shack smelt better than ever, it was an odd thing to be happy about, but it was just one more thing for Leandra. She sat at the table, watching Marian talk about what was going on in Lowtown. Bethany looked between the hot pot and her sister, and though Carver tried to hide his interest, he paid attention too.

"He's throwing coin into the businesses of struggling Ferelden ventures, even buying warehouses for the poor to use as shelters. The man is moving like, like...a spirit, between different people, helping them, saving them. He truly is the man we've always heard stories told of mother," Marian explained.

She could feel the pride in her eldest daughter's voice, the worship even. Marian had found an idol, a man like her father. Malcolm, Leandra smiled at the memory of her husband. When first she met him, she knew that he was truly good, wanting to help others even in the smallest of ways. It was much like uncle Fausten, her father had told her about his youth. His journey across Thedas was about more than just learning and claiming fame, the man wanted to help people.

"He wishes to be a hero," Aristide would say about his brother.

He wouldn't chide it as a foolish or childish dream. The bond between the two brothers was that strong, Aristide had accepted Fausten's naiveté as his strength a long time ago. He complained about his decisions, often outright chided him for them, but he never held it over him, and he always respected him. Leandra looked at each of her children, and prayed everyday that they would find in one another, the same love her father and uncle had. She knew already that that same bond had developed between Marian and Daylen. He inspired her, and it made Leandra happy beyond any kind of smell.

"They're preparing some kind of party," Marian said.

"Well, I think we're going to be having a party of our own," Carver huffed.

"I don't know..." Bethany muttered.

"What is it sister?" Marian asked.

"This pot, its rather big, a bit much for all of us I would say, I had bought far too much," Bethany said.

"You cannot be suggesting that we, give our food to the others," Carver said.

"I'm just saying Carver, Daylen's spending all this time helping others, shouldn't we try to match that?" Bethany asked.

"No, let him help others, I encourage it, but why do we have to get involved?"

"I agree with Carver, we haven't had a decent meal in a year, let the Fereldans have scraps," Gamlen said.

"You said it uncle, let's go you two," Marian said, grinning as she looked at Bethany and Carver.

She grabbed Carver by his arm and lifted him off of the chair. Carver growled slightly, but then grinned as Gamlen frowned. Bethany tried to lift the pot off of the fire, but clearly struggled. Leandra looked at her brother, pointing with her eyes to Bethany.

"Blight take you," Gamlen threw his arms up, before walking over to Bethany.

He took one side of the pot, putting the lid on it and nodding to Bethany. They took each end and followed Marian and Carver out of the door. Leandra rubbed the back of Alpha's neck and took the key from the table. She locked the door behind her and followed her family, to where her extended family was gathering. The sight was magnificent, the people of Lowtown and Darktown, and those whose fortunes only scratched the steps of Hightown, all of them gathered. Great lamps had been lit, men worked the wooding of the warehouse bought by Daylen. Workers from the refugee shelter looked at the building in astonishment. Others, those who the place was meant for had different variations of the same reaction. Some fought tears, others looked at it with confusion, others lost themselves to the joy and laughed with their friends and family. It was all the same reaction and realisation, that someone was looking out for them.

"Maker," Bethany gasped, nearly dropping the pot.

Marian patted Carver on the shoulder and waved to her mother as she rushed into the clouds.

"Excuse me, you're all from Ferelden right? Well can't you see this place is for you as much as it is for Kirkwall, you could at least help us make it suitable for the night. Help and who knows, you might get a bigger serving of food for the hard work," Marian explained to the men.

They looked at her for a moment, some in confusion, others in annoyance.

"What are you waiting for, WORK! SHOW THEM FERELDEN STRENGTH!" she yelled.

It was enough to spur the men to action. She clapped her hands, giving encouragement and quickening the pace. Before long, Marian was coordinating labourers and volunteers, telling them where to go and what to get. Old food from the stores was bought to the shelter, the left over's low town residents who had already eaten was offered, and gladly accepted alongside the company. The shelter wasn't just for Ferelden refugees, but for the poor, including elves.

"You're all welcome here, you have nothing to fear, if anyone gives you crap I promise I'll kick them out myself, and if not I can have Alpha here do it, he can be very convincing," Marian petted the Mabari, speaking to some of the elves from the alienage.

"Excuse me, am I correct in assuming that you're one Marian Hawke?" a blonde dwarf asked.

"Yes," Marian cast a suspicious eye on the dwarf.

She had seen him near the merchant's guild, with his rather simple son. In fact, the said son had just astonished a few of the engineers, by finishing their work on the door when they weren't looking.

"Excellent, Bodahn Feddic at your service, merchant, adventurer and in this case philanthropist. I will be taking part in the expedition to the deep roads, which I understand you'll be a partner in...master Amell also said you are his cousin," Bodahn said.

Marian smiled, regarding the dwarf with a much greater respect this time.

"What do you have for us?" she asked.

"Paid for at discounted price by your cousin, a collection of fine blankets and bedding for the needing," the dwarf said.

"Pleasure doing business with you Bodahn, I'll tell my cousin you said hello," Marian said.

"Oh he'll be delighted," Bodahn smiled, looking to the workers.

Adaar was carrying planks of wood over her shoulder, a weight that would give most men pause. But she wasn't alone, Bevin was carrying planking as well. Following them was Daylen, but he lacked his formal clothes. Instead he wore boots, brown trousers and a brown vest, a cloak around his neck concealed much of his face. To everyone else, he was just another labourer, whom would occasionally take a roll of bread from his cloak and give it to the children, or to people sitting by themselves. He went up to an elf in a cloak and hood like his. The man had no boots on, and the armour he was wearing was black, with a lot of spikes. Underneath the hood, Daylen noticed markings on the man's face, and his white hair.

"Here," he said, giving the man a roll.

The elf looked up at Daylen in confusion, but also suspicion. Daylen kept still, making it very clear he wouldn't leave until the elf had taken it. Clawed gauntlets gripped the bread and briefly touched Daylen's hand. There was a very brief moment in which the marking's on the man's face glowed. Daylen nodded his head at the elf, ignoring the strange occurrence and moving on. The elf watched Daylen leave, before biting the food he had been given. Isabela walked up to the shelter, looking at it with a hesitant smile. She tried to remain indifferent to it, but when she saw the children playing with the Mabari she smiled fully.

"Oh, there's only one man I've known who could be this much of a bleeding hearted, do-gooding, village wandering, errand running, deep roading, heroing hero," Isabela said.

"I hope you don't mind if I steal that one."

"Hmm," Isabela put a hand to her chin, swaying her hips slightly as she considered who spoke.

"Let's see the accent is dwarven, tends to speak as if he's the smartest man in the room, or the most fun, Varric Tethras," she turned and smiled at the dwarf.

"Hello Isabela, you know when I suggested you come to Kirkwall I didn't actually think you'd actually do it. Shouldn't you be halfway across Thedas, throwing up off of the edge of one of those ships?" Varric asked.

"Shouldn't you be composing a ridiculous story you'll never actually get around to writing?" Isabela retorted.

"Oh I've got a good source of inspiration now," Varric grinned, looking towards Marian.

Isabela followed his gaze, and grinned herself. She saw just how attractive Marian was, and her sister, and brother, even her mother.

"All this can be owed to her," Varric said.

"Oh, I thought someone else was responsible for it," Isabela said.

"Well, they did most of the heavy lifting, but look whose actually organising everything," Varric said.

Marian indeed was acting like the leader Varric knew she could be. By ten at night, people were celebrating in the shelter, gathering for a supper. There was a sense of peace with the merry gathering, as well as a sense of justice. For so long, even the poor had been separated by some kind of divide. But elves, dwarves and humans dined together as equals, Kossith in Adaar's case too. She tilted her ale cup to Daylen, who sat with his cloak removed close to the head of the table. Wheelbarrows of food had been brought in by the Chantry, on the authorisation of Sebastian Vael. The man himself only briefly glimpsed what had been built. But his donation was appreciated, cheeses, hams, sausages, cabbages and potato sacks, water and wine. For the people of low and dark town, they got to loss themselves in merriment in a way nobles at balls never could. Bella joined at the end of her shift, even Aveline came and ate.

Daylen met Aveline, and his family met his prized companions. Bella and Bethany both got on extremely well, talking about Ferelden and how much they missed it, as well as what was to like about Kirkwall. Bodahn spoke well with both Leandra and Gamlen. Wade talked about all of his marvellous creations with Bevin and Carver. That left Daylen, Aveline and Marian to speak.

"The Hydian family? I've heard they're ruthless, but to actually involve themselves in the slave trade," Aveline put a hand to her cheek, and then slammed it into the table. "Someone in the guard is turning their back to this," she said, with fury in her eyes.

"Marian trusts you Aveline, I can tell, she thinks you'd be a good ally," Daylen said.

"An ally for what?" Aveline asked.

"At first I wanted to make things better for my family, but after what Daylen's told me, I can't just stop at funding a deeproads expedition, I need to take how far I'm willing to go further," Marian explained.

"What do you mean?"

"Aveline you walk the streets of this city every day, and every day you see someone profiting off of the misery of another, the Coterie, the merchant's guild, even the nobility. The Chantry only got involved with the poor here, when someone screamed it out to them, had Daylen said nothing, that brother of the faith would have gone back to the other Chantry clerics simply waiting for the poor and in need to get to them..."

"When they can't get to them, I understand that part Hawke, but working with that slippery piece of work Bartrand, how is it any different from working with the Red Iron?" Aveline asked.

"It's a temporary partnership, whomever goes against the other first proves themselves the person of bad character, still, it is wise to be aware of any possible betrayal Bartrand may have planned," Daylen explained.

"The point I'm trying to make Aveline, is that if there's corruption in this city, in my home, then I have a moral duty to bring that corruption to light," Hawke said.

"I don't mind stepping on people's toes, after the blight, I had nothing left to lose, but you're different Hawke, you still have your family," Aveline said.

"I see how close everyone is no, how all you need is a common ground, to get along, this is a night of happiness for everyone, where there's no conflict between anyone. I want to give that to the entire city, by routing out those who would disrupt that kind of dream. My family, innocent lives, I'll protect as many of them as I can, and if I fail, it'll only strengthen my resolves," Marian explained.

"It takes a certain kind of character to come back from the death of someone they value," Daylen said.

"I know, I guess if I don't protect my family well, I'll find out if my character is as good as yours or Aveline's," Marian raised her cup, smiling as she smacked it against Daylen and Aveline's.

The night ended in spectacular fashion. Those who had homes began to walk back to them, others who still needed homes stayed. The volunteers from the old shelter thanked Marian profusely. Then, the reunited Amell family walked home. They sat at the table in their shack, more pleased with themselves than they thought they would be. Marian Hawke was already beginning to make a mark on the city, in the eyes of the people, she had done something no noble would. For Daylen, it was simply the knowledge that a simple act of kindness and charity could make all the difference.

"We talked plenty about what's been happening to us the past year, where have you been?" Carver asked Daylen.

"Yes, tell us about your adventures boy," Gamlen poured drinks for everyone, finishing the last of the ale.

Daylen smiled and nodded his head.

"You already know about the blight," he said.

"Tell us about the real blight, from your perspective, after Redcliffe, Bella told us what happened there," Bethany said.

Daylen put a hand to his head as his family looked at him. They waited for him, with such keen interest, as he thought of the best way to tell his story.

"Well the defence of Redcliffe wasn't the end of it, in fact it was the beginning of a lot things. I returned to a place I hoped never to go back too, and discovered something...that made history...but before all that I came upon a man on the road, a man with a golem control rod!"

Next Chapter 10: Tranquillity

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Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter, consider it a Christmas gift. We've gotten the build up out of the way, now we get onto the main quests of the game.


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